THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 
P.Lennox  Tierney 


WOODBOURNE: 


A  Novel  cf  the  Revolutionary  Period  in  Virginia 
and  Maryland. 


Ill    TV/0    PARTS. 


BY   COLONEL    JOSEPH   MAYO. 


PART    I. 


BALTIMORE: 

PUBLISHED    BY  JOHX  B.   PIET  &  CO., 

174   West  Baltimore   Street. 

1881. 


CopTRion-,  1884,  BY  COLONEL,  JOSEPH  MAYO. 


Press  of  John  B.  Fiet  &  Co. 


ur 

v/,  I 


DEDICATION. 


TO    COLOIIEI*    ROBERT    H.   MAYO 

(of  Auburn,    in  the    County  of   Westmoreland,   Virginia), 
as  a  Slight  Token   of  the  Author's   Gratitude  fcr 
his  numberless  aots  of  more  than  Brotherly 
Kindness,  this  Volume  is  Affec 
tionately  Inscribed. 


837-179 


PREFACE. 


THE  principal  events  recorded  in  these  pages  relate  to 
the  most  interesting  epoch  of  American  history.  The 
scene  is  chiefly  confined  to  a  little  spot  of  that  "Land 
within  the  Capes,"  which  its  first  explorer  has  described 
as  bearing  the  prerogative  over  the  most  pleasant  places 
known.  In  our  unambitious  narrative,  which  is  con 
cerned  with  the  fortunes  of  two  or  three  families,  we 
profess  to  deal  with  subjects  of  general  public  interest 
only  as  they  may  serve  to  elucidate  the  main  design. 
\Ve  do  not  propose  to  write  a  society  novel,  nor  yet  a 
pure  romance,  nor  to  try  and  bedizen  a  prosy  array  of 
unimportant  events  in  the  trumpery  garb  of  sentimental 
fancy.  Much  less  shall  we  undertake  to  draw  an  elabor 
ate  picture  of  the  every-day  manners  and  customs  of 
the  ancient  proverbial  cavaliers  of  Virginia— cavaliers  still 
in  spite  of  the  disgust  which  some  people  affect  to  have 
for  the  name.  Yet  in  giving  to  the  American  public 
our  "poor  account  of  rich  doings,"  we  deem  it  emi 
nently  proper  to  devote  a  short  space  to  the  task  of 
correcting  some  of  the  erroneous  impressions  of  our 
fatherland  and  its  inhabitants  which  have  gone  abroad 
unchallenged  over  the  face  of  the  earth.  First  and  fore 
most,  then,  let  it  be  distinctly  affirmed  that  the  Vir- 

(v) 


VI  PEEFACE. 

ginians  of  that  clay  were  no  more  Mr.  Thuckaray's 
"Virginians"  than  is  the  country  in  which  they  chvelt 
the  same  which  is  prefigured  in  the  chart  of  his  fruitful 
imagination.  True,  their  landed  possessions  were  in 
several  instances  as  large  as  many  a  petty  European 
principality;  and  the  owners  of  such  vast  domains  were, 
doubtless,  entitled  to  a?  great  consideration  as  any  beg 
garly  landgrave  or  boorish  count  palatine,  yet  it  is  a 
figment  of  prurient  fancy  to  suppose  that  these  manorial 
nabobs  all  lived  in  solitary  habitations  twenty  miles  apart 
each  from  his  neighbor,  and  surrounded  by  savage  wilds 
where,  as  the  nursery  rhymer  says, 

"  Naked  men  in  forests  prowled, 
And  bears  and  panthers  roamed  and  howled."' 

And  whatever  may  have  been  their  capacity  for  getting 
over  the  ground,  they  surely  were  not  equal  to  the  task 
of  performing  impossible  journeys  over  impassible  roads 
i:i  preposterous  yellow  vehicles,  41  carrying  six  insides." 
In  all  seriousness,  if  the  chief  merit  of  fiction  consists, 
•is  Macauley  has  remarked,  in  its  resemblance  to  a  model 
with  Avhich  we  are  already  familiar  or  to  which  we  can 
constantly  re.'cr,  in  the  name  of  the  fairy  muse  what 
shall  be  said  of  the  incongruous  brood  of  extravagan 
cies  which  one  sees  in  the  Virginia  booth  of  Mr.  Tliack 
aray's  teeming  bazaar?  When  Colonel  Henry  Esmond — 
tho  only  fine,  real  gentleman  who  figures  in  his  own 
memoirs — sought  at  once  refuge  from  villainous  company 
and  balm  and  solace  from  go:it  and  ennui  amid  the 
charming  solitude  of  his  plantation  in  Virginia,  it  is  cer 
tain  that  he  found  the  moral  atmosphere  of  his  new 


PREFACE.  Vii 

abode  to  bj  :i  vast  improvement  on  the  mephitic  im 
purities  of  the  grotto-del-cavne,  from  which  he  had  escaped 
in  a  half-asphyxiated  condition.  Here,  at  least,  he  was 
rid  of  the  beastly  Yahoos  of  Vanity  Fair.  Here  the 
unsophisticated  country  people  called  things  by  their 
given  names.  My  Lord  Mohun,  the  grand  sachem  of  the 
civilized  Mohock?,  was  rated  as  a  consummate  ruffian 
and  knave,  and  the  fairest  of  the  frail  nymphs  of  St. 
Germain's  and  Soho  square  was  a  very  Hecate  of  moral 
deformity  because  of  the  shame, 

"  Which,  like  a  canker  in  the  fragrant  rose, 
Did-  spot  the  beauty  of   her  budding  name." 

The  votaries  of  fashion,  tho  roues  of  the  salon  and 
boudoir,  the  maccaronis  of  the  club-house  and  the  gam 
bling  den,  the  starveling  villipenders  of  Grub  street,  the 
swarms  of  seedy  political  pimps,  panders  and  prostitutes, 
were  in  their  e\*es  the  same  disgusting  caricatures  of 
humanity,  whether  paraded  in  Steele  and  Addison's 
polished  periods,  or  pilloried  by  Pope  and  Swift  in 
"Images  from  the  dunghill  and  lazar  house."  These 
were  the  early  and  late  associates  and  boon-companions 
of  this  courtly  chronicler  of  scandalous  small  beer,  who 
would  make  us  believe  that  half  the  women  in  England 
of  that  day  would  have  been  most  profitably  employed 
in  beating  hemp  in  BriJewell  to  make  "cravats"  for 
three-fourths  of  the  men.  The  world  he  has  described 
is  that  in  which  the  dramatic  fancy  of  Congreve  and 
U'ycherly  revelled  with  delight,  where  "the  women  were 
like  profligate,  impudent  and  unfeeling  men,  and  where 
the  men  were  too  bad  for  any  place  but  Pandemonium 
and  Norfolk  Island."  What,  after  all,  is  this  tiresome 


Till  PREFACE. 

old  male  gossip,  but  one  of  those  "coxcomb  birds,  so 
talkative  and  grave,"  who  from  his  cage  pelts  the  passers- 
by  with  ribald  words  and  scurvy  jests? 

"Though  many  a   passenger  he  rightly  call, 
We  hold  him  no  philosopher  at  all.*' 

"With  like  indignant  emphasis  do  we  repudiate  the  exag 
gerated  portraits  of  our  good  ancestors  which  grace  the 
galleries  of  certain  native  artists,  who  appear  to  labor 
under  the  strange  delusion  that  the  subjects  of  their 
delineations  spent  the  best  part  of  their  lives  in  stalking 
around  the  circle  of  stiltish,  purse-proud  arrogance,  and 
swaggering  in  a  "high-kilted"  Babylonish  dialect,  which 
out-gasconaded  Gascony.  It  is  farthest  from  the  truth, 
moreover,  to  suppose  that  the  typical  Virginian  cavalier 
found  his  only  pleasures  in  fox-hunting  and  cock-fighting; 
carousing  in  tap-rooms,  and  wrangling  over  cards  and 
dice,  betting  at  races,  and  whispering  vapid  sentiment 
in  the  ear  of  simpering  beauty.  On  the  contrary,  he 
was  as  exquisitely  alive  and  keenly  sensitive  as  any 
"  mortal  mixture  of  earth's  mold '  to  those  lofty  impres 
sions,  and  del  cate  touches  of  feeling  and  passion  which 
elevate  the  soul,  expand  the  intellect,  enliven  the  fancy, 
kindle  in  the  heart  the  generous  flame  of  sympathy  and 
love,  and  strew  with  flowers  the  thorny  paths  of  life. 
And  in  the  hour  of  severest  trial,  when  Red  Battle's 
stern  alarum  rung  out  over  hill  and  dale,  he  approved 
himself  a  manly,  robust,  bold  and  independent  freeman, 
who  bared  his  bosom  to  the  howling  storm  and  recked 
not  of  danger  and  sacrifice  iu  his  country's  cause.  Of 
Toryism,  as  the  term  was  applied  during  th.3  Revolt- 


PREFACE.  IX 

tionary  era,  there  -was  little  or  nothing  in  this  part  of 
the  Old  Dominion.  A'.l  classes  and  conditions  of  the  peo 
ple  were  more  nearly  united  in  thought,  feeling  and 
purpose  than  had  been  the  case  in  any  civil  disturbance 
previously  recorded  in  English  history.  Still,  there  were 
not  a  few  among  the  wealthy  and  most  influential  plan 
ters  Avho  dreaded  to  cut  loose  all  of  a  sudden  from  the 
ancient  moorings  and  set  out  on  a  voyage  of  explora 
tion  "in  thick  weather  on  an  unknown  sea."  They  were 
not  able  by  a  single  eftbrt  to  break  the  ties,  "light  as 
air  and  strong  as  links  of  iron,"  which  bound  them  to 
the  time-honored  institutions,  hoary  traditions,  and  imme 
morial  usages  of  their  fathers.  They  cherished  a  fond 
veneration  of  the  aristocratic  and  monarchical  features 
of  the  constitution,  for  the  canons  of  property  and  laws 
of  descent,  for  the  wholesome  restrictions  upon  the 
elective  franchise  and  the  right  to  hold  office,  and  in 
regarding  the  freedom  and  safety  of  the  subject  as  the 
origin  and  cause  of  all  laws ;  they  nevertheless  believed 
that  the  principles  to  which  they  were  so  ardently  attached 
afforded  the  only  secure  bulwarks  and  muniments  of  right 
and  justice.  They  read,  with  avidity,  the  letters  of 
Junius,  and  applauded  the  burning  utterances  of  Burke 
and  Chatham;  but  they  were  not  prepared  to  receive, 
without  debate,  the  precepts  of  the  sage  of  Gunston, 
nor  to  hear  without  trepidation  the  inspired  voice  of  the 
SEEU,  "\vhose  thunder  shook  the  Philip  of  the  Seas." 
As  hostilities  advanced,  their  minds  were  gradually 
changed,  and  they  became  in  the  end  zealous  supporters 
of  the  cause  of  American  freedom.  To  the  influence  of 
this  class — wise,  prudent,  high-minded  and  determined 


X  PREFACE. 

men — was  mainly  due  the  auspicious  result  that,  in  the 
formation  of  the  Republic,  the  spirit  of  innovation  was 
restrained  within  the  confines  of  just  and  rational  re 
form. 

But  our  "  prolegomenon  "  is  growing  into  a  tedious  his 
torical  dissertation.  Xot  to  make  too  sudden  a  "pull-up," 
we  take  occasion  to  repeat  that  in  the  following  pages 
we  have  striven  to  produce  a  popular  work  of  fiction 
which  should  be  catholic  in  spirit,  national  in  tone,  free 
from  sectional  and  sectarian  bias  and  prejudice,  and  con 
taining  not  a  word  or  thought,  hint  or  allusion,  of  ques 
tionable  propriety.  As  such  it  is  kindly  commended  to 
the  appreciative  consideration  of  the  American  people. 


I. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE 

I,  -                                                                                                                                             1 

II,  13 

III,  -  -       27 

IV,  4G 
V,  -                                                                              -        Cl 

VI,  73 

VII,  -                                                                             -        80 

VIII,  91 

IX,  -                                                                              -        9'J 

X,  112 

XI,  -                                                                             -      123 

XIF,  13G 

XIII,  -  -      153 

XIV,  163 
XV,  -                                                                             -       183 

XVI,  195 

XVII,  -                                                   ...       200 

XVIII,  20G 

XIX, 215 


WOODBOUB.NE. 


CHAPTER    I. 


NE  of  her  own  native  bards  lias  sung  ia 
mournful  numbers  the  miseries  of  "hap 
less  Caledonia,"  doomed  to  reap  the  bit 
terest  fruits  of  the  last  bloody  harvest  of 
internecine  strife  which  ripened  in  gory  ghastliness 
on  the  soil  of  Britain.  It  is  no  horrid  dream  of 
phrenzied  imagination,  the  tragic  picture  we  are 
gazing  upon ;  but  the  frightful  reality  of  calamitous 
vroe,  fell-born  progeny  of  the  grisly  demon  of  civil 
discord  and  fratricidal  rage. 

Scotland,  indeed,  was  made  to  feel  its  keenest 
pangs;  but  the  terrible  scourge  did  not  confine  its 
ravages  to  her  ill-fated  borders.  It  carried  desola 
tion  and  mourning  to  many  a  happy  English  home, 
and  everywhere  inflicted  great  gaping  wounds  on 
the  bosom  of  society,  which,  for  long  years  to  come, 
broke  out  and  bled  afresh  at  the  whisper  of  some 
name  of  hateful  memory  and  portentous  sound. 


2  WOODBOUKXE. 

Have  they  been  wholly  healed  by  the  great  physi 
cian,  Time  ?  For  the  sake  of  all  that  humanity 
holds  dear,  let  us  so  hope  and  believe.  Who  so 
basely  vile  and  malevolent  as  would  wish  to  see 
again  the  fiery  signal  of  insurrection  cast  its  bale 
ful  gleam  across  that  fair  horizon,  whence  the 
genius  of  Christian  civilization  from  its  island 
throne  instructs  the  nations  in  the  victorious  arts 
of  Peace. 

It  is  necessary,  for  the  elucidation  of  these  pages, 
for  us  to  take  a  flying  trip  across  the  ocean.  We 
are  now  in  the  midst  of  the  beautiful  region  which 
has  been  appropriately  styled  the  Arcadia  of  Scot 
land.  The  scene  is  a  small  villa  near  the  banks 
of  Leven  Water;  and  time,  an  evening  in  the  leafy 
month  of  June,  in  the  year  1753.  It  has  been 
raining — a  passing  thunder  shower.  The  sun  has 
just  come  forth  from  his  vapory  bath,  and  every 
bush  and  brake  is  hailing  his  reappearance  with 
warbling  paeans  of  surpassing  melody.  The  fleecy 
clouds,  all  radiant  with  prismatic  glories,  are  slowly 
trooping  towards  the  east,  and  the  last  faint  peal 
of  heaven's  artillery  reverberates  far  down  the  vale. 
On .  every  twig  and  blade  of  grass  the  pearly  rain 
drops  are  sparkling  bright;  the  air  is  laden  with 
the  rich  perfume  of  blossoming  flowers;  on  the 
mountains  the  heather  blooms  with  a  deeper  pur 
ple,  and  the  dimpling  wavelets  of  the  limpid  stream 
dance  merrily  in  the  shimmering  sunlight. 

Two  ladies  are  seated  at  an  open  window  which 
commands  a  delightful  prospect,  embracing  the  most 
bewitching  features  of  the  extensive  landscape.  One 
is  old;  yet  the  frosts  of  age  have  not  chilled  her 


WOODBOURNE.  3 

heart,  which  speaks  in  the  look  of  tender  affection 
and  solicitude  with  which  she  is  regarding  her  com 
panion.  The  latter  lady  is  in  the  early  prime  and 
loveliness  of  charming  womanhood.  Her  face  wears 
an  expression  of  sadness,  which  appears  to  be  for 
eign  to  her  natural  disposition.  She  is  resting  her 
chin  on  one  hand;  in  the  other  is  an  open  letter, 
and  her  large,  grey  eyes,  moist  with  springing  teifrs, 
are  gazing  absently  at  the  distant  cloud-pavilioned 
crag  towards  which  the  sun  is»  rapidly  declining.  To 
a  long  and  earnest  conversation,  which  was  not  with 
out  painful  interest  to  the  young  lady,  there  had 
ensued  a  silence  of  some  moments'  duration.  It  was 
broken  by  the  elder  lady. 

"All  happens  for  the  best,  my  child,"  she  said, 
meeting  an  outburst  of  disappointment  with  the 
golden  commonplace  of  old  age's  proverbial  philoso 
phy.  "I  was  convinced  from  the  first  that  the 
effort  would  prove  fruitless;  yet  I  did  not  try  to 
dissuade  you  from  making  it,  because  I  knew  you 
would  not  be  satisfied  until  you  had  done  every 
thing  in  your  power  to  discover  what  was  your 
brother's  fate;  now  your  mind  is  at  ease  on  that 
account.  You  cannot  justly  reproach  yourself  with 
having  left  undone  anything  which  sisterly  affection 
and  duty  commanded  you  to  do,  and  you  will  soon 
forget  this  heavy  affliction  in  your  new  home,  amid 
untried  scenes  and  cares." 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  ever  to  forget  it,  dear 
aunt,"  replied  the  other  lady;  "but  with  God's  help 
it  shall  not  be  the  means  of  bringing  a  single  pang 
of  unhappiness  to  others.  True,  as  you  say,  there 
is  an  end  of  my  long  cherished  hope; — this  letter 


4  WOODBOURXE. 

assures  me  of  it ;  but  I  must  beg  you  to  repeat  the 
story  over  again  as  Uncle  Leslie  heard  it  from  the 
dying  lips  of  our  cousin.  Duncan  Campbell;  I  fain 
would  impress  every  syllable  of  it  on  my  memory 
in  indellible  characters.  It  may  seem  to  be  a  weak 
and  frivolous  fancy  to  you,  and  I  am  certainly 
unable  to  explain  it;  yet  only  a  witness  from  the 
grave  can  dispel  the  strange  tormenting  presenti 
ment  I  have  that  my  brother  escaped  alive  from 
that  bloody  field." 

"If  such  was  the  incredulous  state  of  your  mind, 
Ellen,  after  having  once  heard  Duncan's  clear  story," 
said  her  aunt,  gravely,  "  I  do  not  see  what  good 
can  come  of  worrying  yourself  with  trying  to  remem 
ber  it.  However,  you  know  best.  Perhaps  it  may 
in  time  dispel  the  wicked  illusion  which  harasses 
you  with  constant  anxiety,  and  to  gratify  you,  I 
will  relate  the  story  once  more  as  your  uncle  told 
it  to  me.  Poor  Duncan!  he  was  another  dear  vic 
tim  of  that  sinful  rebellion.  Oh,  those  wretched 
times!  how  it  makes  me  shudder  to  revive  the 
recollection  of  them.  I  must  te  brief,  my  dear,  for 
it  is  not  pleasant  to  dwell  on  this  painful  subject. 
Duncan,  as  you  are  aware,  was  serving  on  the  staff 
of  his  kinsman,  the  Duke  of  Argyle.  He  had  learned 
that  your  brother,  whom  he  loved  dearly,  had,  in 
a  freak  of  madness,  left  Oxford  and  enlisted  with 
the  Chevalier's  party  at  Derby;  and  all  the  time 
the  battle  was  going  on  at  Culloden  he  was  look 
ing  everywhere  for  the  miserable  boy  to  take  him 
prisoner,  believing  that  with  Argyle's  influence  there 
would  be  no  difficulty  in  getting  a  pardon  for  him. 
It  was  not  until  the  battle  was  over,  and  the  poor 


WOODBOUBH&  5 

misguided  rebels  Avere  flying  in  every  direction, 
that  he  came  upon  the  object  of  his  search.  A 
little  band  of  the  bravest  of  Charles  Edwards'  fol 
lowers,  seeing  the  day  was  lost,  had  made  a  gal 
lant  stand  in  order  to  enable  their  leader  to  make 
good  his  escape;  with  them  was  your  brother.  Hist 
hat  was  gone,  and  a  stream  of  blood  was  pouring 
from  a  ghastly  wound  on  his  head,  and  he  fought 
as  one  fights  who  courts  death  on  the  field,  of 
battle.  Brave  boy,  alas!  alas!  that  he  should  have 
been  reserved  for  such  a  fate,"  Aunt  Leslie  paused 
to  wipe  the  gathering  moisture  from  her  eyes,  while 
her  niece,  with  a  convulsive  sob,  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands,  as  seeking  to  shut  out  the  horrible 
saene.  "Duncan,"  resumed  the  old  lady,  "as  soon 
as  he  saw  his  cousin,  pressed  eagerly  towards  him 
through  the  thickest  of  the  fray.  Presently,  he 
beheld  him  suddenly  reel  in  his  saddle  and  fall  to 
the  ground ;  at  the  same  instant  he  himself  was 
struck  in  the  breast  by  the  fatal  bullet  and  borne 
away  lifeless,  as  was  thought,  from  the  field,  "When, 
he  returned  to  consciousness  he  found  himself  lying 
upon  a  pallet  of  straw  in  a  farm  house  close  to 
the  battle-ground,  and  in  the  first  words  that  he 
spoke  he  begged  them  to  go  and  search  for  your 
brother,  describing  as  well  as  he  could  the  spot 
where  he  had  seen  him  fall.  His  entreaties  were 
promptly  obeyed.  A  diligent  search  was  made  for 
the  body;  it  was  not  found.  Still  Duncan  was  not 
satisfied.  Next  day,  at  his  request,  a  squad  of  men 
were  detailed  by  the  Duke's  order  to  prosecute  the 
unavailing  search,  and  when  the  officer  in  charge 
of  them,  who  was  selected  by  Duncan  himself, 
i* 


G  TVOODBOURNE. 

reported  another  failure,  the  poor  lad  at  last 
despaired  of  ever  finding  his  unfortunate  kinsman's 
remains.  His  own  wound  was  mortal;  he  was  taken 
home,  where  he  lived  only  a  short  month  more. 
In  his  dying  hour  his  mind  wandered  back  to  the 
terrible  battlefield,  and  Henry's  name  was  the  last 
word  his  lips  were  heard  to  speak.  And  now, 
Ellen,  since  all  efforts  to  find  your  brother  have 
been  in  vain,  we  are  forced  to  conclude,  after  list 
ening  to  this  circumstantial  narration,  that  he  was 
numbered  among  the  dead  on  that  woful  day  at 
Culloden  Muir.  Tell  me,  my  love,  what  did  John 
say  when  h3  heard  your  tragical  story?" 

A  sudden  glow,  rivalling  the  tints  of  the  sky 
she  had  been  looking  upon,  mantled  the  beautiful 
face  of  the  young  lady,  and  her  tearful  eye  shone 
with  a  brightness  which  was  akin  to  rapture. 

"  Oh,  aunt ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  imagined  before 
that  I  loved  and  respected  him  with  my  whole 
heart,  but  I  never  dreamed  of  falling  at  his  feet 
and  worshipping  him  until  that  moment.  When  I 
saw  him  looking  at  me  with  such  an  expression 
of  love  and  sympathy  and  tender  compassion,  no 
words  can  portray.  I  could  not  help  crying  as 
though  my  heart  was  breaking,  while  all  the  time 
it  Avas  running  over  with  joy  and  gratitude.  It 
was  very  weak  and  foolish,  but  he  knew  the  cause — 
so  noble  and  good,  so  gentle  and  considerate.  Then 
we  quietly  talked  it  all  over  again,  and  agreed  that 
it  was  best  for  the  happiness  of  others  that  it 
should  remain  forever  a  sealed  chapter  in  the  book 
of  our  wedded  lives." 

"I  am  truly  rejoiced  to  hear  yon   speak  of  John 


WOODBOURNE.  7 

in  that  way,  my  dear  child,"  replied  Mrs.  Leslie; 
"  he  was  always  a  great  favorite  with  me  from  a 
boy.  You  were  rather  slow  to  consult  me,  but  he 
is  the  man  of  all  others  I  would  have  picked 
out  for  your  husband.  Yet  I  am  sadly  loth  to 
give  you  up,  for  I  know  I  shall  never  see  you 
again  in  this  world,  you  will  be  so  far  away.  How 
many  miles  did  John  say  it  was  to  Virginia?" 

"  He  said  thousands,  aunt,  I  do  not  remember 
how  many;  but  I  feel  as  though  I  were  really 
going  to  live  in  a  world  which  had  nothing  in 
common  with  this.  It  grieves  me  sorely  to  think 
of  having  to  part  with  you,  my  dearest  aunt — you, 
who  are  the  sole  remaining  tie  which  binds  me 
to  my  native  land.  You  must  not  then  believe  I 
am  cold  and  unfeeling  because  I  long  to  be  quickly 
transported  to  those  scenes  I  have  never  yet  beheld, 
where  lies  my  future  home,  together  with  all  my 
hopes  of  peace  and  happiness  on  this  earth.  My 
mind  is  so  constantly  employed  with  contemplating 
the  new  career  which  opens  before  me,  that  I  feel 
inspired  with  energies  and  aspirations  and  desires 
of  which  I  have  hitherto  been  unconscious.  It  is 
good  to  know  that  I  was  not  made  to  mope  and 
pine  in  indolent  apathy  and  corroding  sorrow.  There 
is  the  germ  of  real,  earnest,  strong  and  courageous 
stuff  in  my  nature — my  birthright  and  only  inher 
itance,  which,  when  transplanted  to  a  more  generous 
soil,  and  fostered  with  loving  care,  will  one  day  burst 
into  the  full  flower  of  domestic  usefulness.  Hence, 
it  is  natural  that  I  should  hail  with  exceeding  joy 
the  approach  of  the  time  appointed  for  me  to  assume 
the  dignity  and  responsibility  of  wifehood,  and  strive 


8  WOODBOUltNE. 

to  become  as  one  whose  'husband  is  known  in  the 
gates  where  he  sitteth  among  the  rulers  of  the  land.' 
For  all  that,  dearest  aunt,  my  heart  is  none  the 
less  warm  for  you  and  yours,  and  whatever  he 
may  say,  I  am  sure  there  is  no  place  in  America 
can  compare  in  beauty  with  this  lovely  spot." 

As  she  spoke  a  bird  flew  down  from  a  neigh 
boring  tree,  and  alighting  on  a  spray  of  woodbine 
close  by  the  window,  carolled  forth  a  single  note 
of  enchanting  sweetness.  In  a  moment  it  was  gone. 
It  had  come  to  say  good-bye  to  the  pretty  lady, 
and  to  give  her  that  little  gem  of  song  for  a 
keepsake. 

"Nor  any  music  like  the  song  of  the  mavis,  my 
dear,"  said  Aunt  Leslie.  "Do  you  believe  John's1 
wonderful  tales  of  the  mocking  birds  in  Virginia! 
But  of  course  you  do,  and  all  he  says  about  tha 
beautiful  flowers  growing  wild  in  the  woods.  Speak 
ing  of  them,  the  woods,  you  must  promise  me, 
Ellen,  not  to  venture  to  go  into  them  unless  John 
goes  with  you.  It  was  only  the  other  day  that  I 
heard  our  neighbor  Smollett  telling  of  a  little  girl, 
the  daughter  of  a  friend  who  was  living  in  Vir 
ginia  somewhere  or  Jamaica,  I  am  not  certain  which, 
but  it  is  all  one,  who  had  gone  out  to  hunt  for 
flowers  in  the  forest,  and — " 

"Was  murdered  and  scalped  by  the  hideous  sav 
ages  ! "  cried  the  young  lady  in  a  voice  of  affected 
horror. 

"Not  so  terrible  as   that." 

"  Bitten  by  one  of    those   frightful  rattlesnakes ! " 

"Not  so,  either;  don't  interrupt  me,  child.  As 
I  was  saying,  the  girl  was  lost  in  the  woods, 


WOODBOUKNE.  9 

and  when  they  found  her,  after  looking  ever  so 
many  hours,  she  was  fast  asleep  under  a  huge  tree, 
and  her  clothes  were  literally  torn  to  tatters." 

The  effect  of  this  fearful  climacteric  showed  that 
the  young  lady  was  not  wanting  in  a  keen  per 
ception  of  the  ludicrous. 

"  Why,  aunt,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  ringing  laugh, 
which  chased  away  the  shadow  from  her  pensive 
brow,  "I  was  on  the  tenter-hooks  for  some  awful 
catastrophe,  and  lo!  and  behold,  it  is  only  a  story 
of  one  poor  babe  in  the  woods  with  the  dear  lit 
tle  redbreasts  left  out.  Do  not  be  uneasy  on  my 
account;  the  flowers  may  <a'  wede  away'  in  their 
native  wilds  for  me;  it  is  the  thought  of  crossing 
the  great  ocean  which  really  alarms  my  fancy,  and 
if  I  get  safely  through  the  'vexed  Bermoothes/ 
there  is  no  danger  of  my  being  lost  in  the  jun 
gles  of  Virginia.  But,  oh !  aunt,  just  behold  the 
sunset;  could  anything  be  more  magnificent?  I 
shall  carry  that  away  with  me  among  my  heart's 
treasures,  and,"  she  inaudibly  added,  "the  recollec 
tion  of  the  dear,  sweet  face  which  is  turning  to 
look  at  it,  will  abide  with  me  as  a  joy  forever- 
more." 

Aunt   Leslie  was  touched. 

"It  is  indeed  a  beautiful  sight,  my  dearest  child," 
she  fervently  responded.  "  I  earnestly  pray  it  may 
prove  to  be  the  emblem  of  the  evening  of  a  long 
and  happy  life  to  you." 

Again  the  ready  tears  gathered  in  Ellen's  lovely 
eyes.  She  hastily  rose,  and  throwing  her  arms  about 
her  aunt's  neck,  kissed  her  affectionately;  then  she 
knelt  reverently  at  her  side.  Mrs.  Leslie  softly 


10  WOODBOURNE. 

drew  the  sweet  suppliant's  head  towards  her  until 
it  rested  on  her  bosom,  and  raising  her  eyes  to 
heaven,  besought  its  guidance  and  protection  for 
the  lonely  orphan  who  was  about  to  tempt  the 
perils  of  the  deep,  to  find  among  strangers,  in  a 
strange  land,  the  haven  of  rest  and  happiness  she 
had  looked  for  in  vain  in  a  country  where  every 
object  she  beheld  was  tinged  with  the  dark  hue  of 
a  sorrowful  remembrance. 

They  had  remained  for  a  short  while  in  this 
prayerful  attitude,  when  the  sound  of  carriage  wheels 
was  heard  approaching  the  house. 

"The  gentlemen  have  returned,  Ellen,"  said  Mrs. 
Leslie,  "and  soon  the  friends  who  are  coming  to 
take  leave  of  you  will  be  here.  It  is  time  you 
were  dressing  for  the  parlor.  There,  dry  your  eyes, 
and  keep  the  rest  of  your  tears  for  the  hour  of 
parting.  John  will  expect  you  to  wear  your  warm 
est  smiles  to-night,  as  to-morrow  is  your  wedding- 
day." 

The  young  lady  calmed  her  agitated  feelings  as 
promptly  as  she  could,  and  proceeded  to  comply 
with  her  aunt's  injunction.  But  before  leaving  the 
room,  she  turned  once  more  to  the  window,  and 
her  glance  lingered  in  a  last  fond  farewell  on  the 
beloved  images  of  her  girlhood's  home.  The  next 
morning  John  .Graeme  and  Ellen  Campbell  were 
married,  and  ere  another  sun  had  set  they  are 
miles  away  on  their  journey  to  Glasgow,  where  the 
ship  was  waiting  which  was  destined  to  bear  them 
safely  to  their  pleasant  home  in  the  Old  Dominion. 

Twenty  years  or  more  have  come  and  gone.  The 
good  Aunt  Leslie  has  been  gathered  to  her  fathers 
these  many  days;  but  her  prayers  have  been  an- 


WOODBOURisE.  11 

lowered.  The  junior  partner  of  the  famous  mer 
cantile  house  of  Ballantine  &  Graeme  has  prospered 
amazingly,  and  Ellen  has  found  a  home  which  fills 
the  measure  of  anticipated  happiness  to  the  very 
brim.  They  call  their  house  Bonhill,  in  honor  of 
Mr.  Graeme's  old  friend  and  school  fellow,  the 
author  of  Peregrine  Pickle  and  the  Ode  to  Leven 
Water.  It  is  a  lovely  place,  and  whilst  we  do  its 
sweet  mistress  the  justice  to  state  that  she  does 
not  fail  on  occasion  to  speak  in  becoming  terms 
of  admiration  of  the  Arcadian  delights,  the  bonny 
burnsides,  the  flowery  braes  and  fragrant  spreading 
shaws  she  left  behind  her  in  the  Land  o'  Cakes, 
she  assuredly  appreciates  none  the  less  the  glowing 
charms  of  this  favored  clime.  She  readily  admits 
that  the  gorgeous  splendors  of  the  autumnal  even 
tide  in  Virginia  are  enchanting  beyond  anything 
her  imagination  had  foretold,  and  that  the  mock 
ing-bird  is  a  very  marvel  of  feathered  symphony. 
As  for  the  wild  flowers,  she  argues  that  they  flour 
ish  most  bonnily  in  their  native  parterres,  among 
the  rich  meadows,  the  thorny  brakes  and  bosky 
hill-slopes;  but  she  prefers  to  have  a  garden  of 
her  own, — 

And  the  jessamine  sweet,   and  the  sweet  tuberose, 
The  sweetest  flower   for  scent  that  blows, 
And  all  rare  blossoms  from  every  clime 
Grow  in  that  garden  in  perfect  prime. 

But  there  are  no  dusky  mountains  bristling  with 
furze  and  gorse;  no  crystal  river  warbling  over  its 
pebbly  bed,  only  the  wooded  hills  and  chalky  cliffs 
of  Stratford,  and  the  placid  blue  waters  of  the 
noble  Potomac  mirroring  the  bluer  sky.  And  instead 


12  WOODBOURXE. 

ot  the  nut-brown  lassie  trilling  her  simple  love- 
song  over  the  pail,  we  can  hear,  if  we  like,  Aunt 
Dinah's  doleful  baritone  drowsily  crooning  some 
eldritch  catch,  as  she  lazily  plies  her  evening  care 
of  milking  the  cows.  The  last  comparison,  how 
ever,  is  entirely  gratuitous,  not  to  say  impertinent. 
Mrs.  Graeme  was  happily  possessed  of  a  rare  talent 
for  music,  and  had  diligently  improved  the  gift,  and 
the  barbarous  ditty  of  milkmaid,  brown  or  black, 
was  harsh  discord  to  her  sensitive  ear. 

Taken  all  in  all,  the  lot  of  Ellen  Graeme  had 
been  such  as  does  not  fall  to  many  in  this  vale 
of  tears,  even  when  we  debit  the  account  of  hap 
piness  with  the  sorrows  and  privations  of  her  child 
hood's  years.  From  the  moment  she  set  foot  on 
the  threshold  of  her  new  home  until  now,  she  had 
known  but  one  great  affliction,  in  the  death  of  her 
oldest  child, — a  bright  little  blossom  of  three  years 
plucked  from  its  parent  stem  to  deck  the  heavenly 
bowers;  and  she  lived  to  see  the  son  and  daughter, 
with  whom  she  was  afterwards  blest,  grow  up  under 
her  watchful  eye,  and  become  all  that  a  mother's 
heart  could  desire.  Her  cup  of  rejoicing  was  then 
full,  crowned,  overflowing.  Nobly  had  she  earned  the 
sweet  reward  of  woman's  highest  earthly  ambition — 
'  her  children  arise  up  and  call  her  blessed;  her 
husband  also,  and  he  praiseth  her."  And  John 
Graeme's  praise  was  no  holiday  compliment;  it  was 
the  constant,  free,  unstinted  offering  of  tenderest 
love  and  unfailing  sympathy.  While  he  did  his 
duty  to  his  neighbor  as  a  God-fearing  man  should 
do,  and  was  in  the  truest  sense  a  lather  to  his 
children,  to  his  wife  he  gave  the  unmeasured  devo 
tion  of  his  loyal,  manly  heart. 


CHAPTER  II. 


a  bright  evening    in    the    early    part    of 
the   month  of   November,   1775,   a  gentle 
man  on  horseback,  approaching  at  a  can 
ter  the  brow  of  the  gently  sloping   decliv 
ity    which   overlooks    N Ferry,   drew    rein    so 

suddenly  that  he  seemed    to    have    been    riveted    to 
the  spot  by  the  wand  of  enchantment. 

Now  we  protest,  most  ungentle  of  critics,  there 
is  nothing  in  this  simple  prologue  to  provoke  that 
derisive  ejaculation.  Go  on  with  the  story,  and  you 
will  presently  discover  that  our  cavalier  is  quite 
another  sort  of  person  from  the  hackneyed  creature 
you  are  thinking  of.  That  far  from  being  one  of 
those  fantastic  images  with  which  the  genius  of 
romance  has  peopled  its  realm  of  shadows,  yonder 
solitary  horseman  is  fully  endued  with  the  prop 
erties  of  mortal  flesh  and  blood,  however  much  he 
may  be  destined  to  excel  the  vulgar  herd  of  human 
kind.  Erect  and  motionless  as  a  statue,  he  could 
not  have  assumed  a  better  attitude  were  he  con 
scious  of  having  his  picture  taken  by  the  cleverest 
of  modern  photographers.  The  subject  is  worthy 
the  pencil  of  Apelles ;  but  in  the  absence  of  the 
divine  artist,  we  Avill  try  our  profane  hand  at  a 
rough  and  ready  sketch. 

2  (13) 


14  WOODBOURXE. 

First  of  all,  it  is  evident  that  our  traveler  is 
decidedly  youthful,  as  his  cheek,  ruddy-brown  from 
exposure  to  sun  and  breeze,  is  smooth  and  dim 
pled  as  a  damsel  in  her  teens,  and  his  chin  is 
innocent  of  even  the  rudiments  of  a  beard.  At  a 
venture,  one  might  say  he  was  a  little  the  rise  of 
twenty  years  old.  He  is  a  trifle  larger  than  what 
would  be  thought  the  middle  size  at  his  age;  his 
form  is  at  once  lithe,  graceful  and  compact,  and 
he  is  withal  strikingly  fair  and  comely  in  every 
feature  and  lineament,  gesture  and  glance.  For  his 
dress,  he  is  neatly  habited  in  a  fashionable  drab- 
colored  riding  suit,  tipped  off  with  plain  double 
gilt  buttons,  and  in  lieu  of  boots  his  nether  limbs 
are  enveloped  in  a  pair  of  yellow  buckskin  leg 
gings,  which  reach  nighly  to  his  hips.  Like  proof 
of  unostentatious  refinement  is  observed  in  the  hat 
he  has  on,  which  is  entirely  divested  of  the  tawdry 
embellishments  so  profusely  worn  by  the  young 
fops  of  the  day.  The  accoutrements  of  his  horse, 
a  superb  bay  gelding,  meet  in  all  respects  for  so 
gallant  a  rider,  are  of  simple  and  substantial  Eng 
lish  workmanship,  without  ornament  of  any  kind. 
His  pose  is  the  perfection  of  ideal  elegance  and 
ease,  betraying  in  every  respect,  from  the  grasp  of 
the  nervous  hand  on  the  tightened  rein,  to  the 
light,  airy  touch  of  the  foot  on  the  polished  stirrup, 
A  very  prince  of  the  manege  whose  throne  is  the 
saddle.  Gathered  in  a  roll,  and  strapped  behind 
the  saddle,  is  a  blue  cloth  surtout,  and  thus  scan 
tily  equipped  it  is  easily  inferred  that  our  cavalier 
is  not  going  a  very  long  journey.  Leisure  enough, 
too,  he  seems  to  have  for  indulging  the  poetical 


1VOODBOURNE.  15 

sensations  awakened  by  the  glorious  panorama  which 
has  broken  upon  him  like  a  vision  of  fairy  land. 
And  surely  a  lovelier,  softer,  and  more  gorgeous  land 
scape  never  inspired  the  exquisite  soul  of  Italian 
art.  On  this  particular  occasion,  two  rare  circum 
stances  conspired  to  give  additional  charm  to  the 
scene.  The  evening  was  as  calm  as  an  infant's 
sleep,  so  that  the  numberless  sounds  of  rustic  music 
floated,  mellowed  and  sweetly  modulated,  on  the 
downy  bosom  of  the  atmosphere.  Then  the  season 
had  been  unusually  mild,  and  the  fields  and  for 
ests  had  not  yet  surrendered  their  rich  treasures  to 
the  ravages  of  "chill  November's  surly  blast"; 
but  bedecked  in  all  the  splendor  of  their  many 
lined  liveries,  they  displayed  the  ecstatic  harmony 
of  colors  which  is  the  unreached  paradise  of  the 
painter's  despair.  Here  and  there  on  the  summit  of 
a  gentle  eminence  the  gable,  roof  or  other  portion 
of  a  dwelling  house  peered  forth  from  a  bowery 
of  embosoming  groves,  and  across  the  open  fields 
an  occasional  herd  of  kine  soberly  wended  their 
way  to  the  evening  fold.  Away  in  the  distance 
the  majestic  "river  of  swans,"  its  broad  face  glow 
ing  with  delight,  was  enjoying  with  supreme  satis 
faction  the  interval  of  unwonted  repose,  and  at 

your  feet    the    modest    little  N" ,   pursuing    its 

gently  winding  way  round  headland  and  cliff, 
appeared  like  a  chain  of  silvery  lakes,  whose  bright 
mirrors  gave  back  with,  enhanced  glory  the  ravish 
ing  loveliness  they  imbibed.  Over  all  this  scene 
of  varied  beauty  the  slowly  sinking  sun  of  an 
Indian  summer  spread  its  indescribable  sheen,  and 
earth  and  sky  vied  with  each  other  to  produce 


16  WOODBOUKNE. 

such  a  masterpiece  of  Nature's  handiwork  as  would 
have  kindled  adoration  in  the  heart  of  the  coldest 
skeptic. 

Not  many  moments  was  our  susceptible  cavalier 
permitted  to  remain  in  rapt  contemplation  of  this 
beautiful  picture,  for  now  his  ear  has  caught  a 
familiar  sound,  that,  rising  gradually  above  the 
drowsy  hum  and  gathering  volume  as  it  approached, 
burst  all  at  once  so  clear  and  resonant  on  the 
still  air  as  to  send  the  blood  rushing  through  his 
veins  in  a  torrent  of  wild  cxhiliration.  Partaking 
the  same  enthusiasm,  the  noble  courser  gave  a 
great  bound  forward,  and  before  rider  could  recover 
his  seat  and  bring  the  full  force  of  the  curb  to 
bear,  was  speeding  away  in  the  direction  of  the 
inspiring  sound. 

Moralists  may  homilize  to  their  hearts'  content, 
but  there  is  no  enjoyment  so  intense  and  tumul- 
tuos  to  man  and  horse  as  the  intoxicating  revelry 
of  the  chase.  Checking  his  impatient  steed,  and 
galloping  back  to  his  post  of  observation,  the 
young  gentleman  reached  it  just  in  time  to  see  a 
pack  of  hounds  emerge  from  the  cover  of  the 
forest  into  a  large  field  a  short  distance  beyond  the 
river.  In  a  twinkling  they  have  crossed  it,  and 
are  again  lost  to  view  in  the  pine  thickets  which 
adorn  the  river's  edge  with  an  emerald  fringe. 
Straight  after  them,  trailing  one  behind  another, 
comes  a  party  of  fifteen  or  twenty  huntsmen.  As 
they  cross  the  plain,  most  of  those  in  rear  come 
up  on  a  line  with  the  one  in  front  and  some  pass 
him,  so  that  it  is  now  become  a  headlong  race  for 
.he  prize  which  woodland  heroes  so  ardently  covet. 


WOODBOURXE.  17 

Many  a  ditch,  both  broad  and  deep,  traverses  the 
field,  but  these  are  easily  cleared  at  a  flying  leap 
by  the  whole  chasing  troop.  A  more  serious  obstacle 
interposes  in  the  shape  of  an  ugly  worm-fence, 
high  and  bristling  with  jagged  stakes  and  uncouth 
riders.  At  sight  of  this  formidable  barrier,  all  but 
two  of  the  eager  sportsmen  prudently  abate  their 
speed  and  look  about  them  for  a  safe  gap  in  the 
fence.  The  twain  more  adventurous  than,  the  rest, 
or  else  having  greater  confidence  in  the  -vaulting 
qualities  of  their  steeds,  keep  straight  ahead  in 
their  hurrying  career,  fierce  competitors  for  the 
honor  of  being  first  in  at  the  death.  They  are 
abreast,  though  some  paces  apart.  At  this  stage 
of  the  sport,  the  looker-on  from  the  hill  fairly 
brims  over  with  excitement;  but  it  does  not  appear, 
from  the  tenor  of  his  exclamations,  that  he  would 
have  those  two  madcaps  desist  from  their  dare 
devil  attempt. 

"  That's  Dick  Alloway  on  the  sorrel ;  but  who 
can  the  other  fellow  be?  No  matter;  ten  to  one 
neither  of  them  makes  the  leap.  You  and  I  could 
do  it,  old  boy,"  addressing  his  horse,  which  at  the 
moment  looked  the  image  of  a  "fiery  Pegasus;" 
"and  we  are  the  only  pair  in  the  county.  By 
George !  they  are  over  it.  Splendid !  splendid ! " 

Sure  enough,  there  they  were,  over  the  fence  as 
clear  as  a  whistle,  and  off  like  the  wind  neck  and 
neck  for  the  woods,  into  which  they  soon  disap 
pear.  The  more  sober  gaited  of  the  party,  having 
abandoned  the  contest  for  the  prize,  follow  on  each 
according  to  his  whim.  Presently,  the  blast  of  a 
horn  announces  the  catastrophe,  and  as  its  echoes 
2* 


18  .          WOODBOURNE. 

die  away  along  the  hills  a  deeper  quiet  than  ever 
settles  down  upon  the  scene.  Huntsmen  and  hounds 
have  vanished  like  a  dream  from  sight  and  hearing, 
and  our  traveler,  recovering  himself,  replaces  the  hat 
which  he  had  snatched  from  his  head  in  the  excite 
ment  of  the  moment,  gives  the  rein  to  his  mettle 
some  steed,  and  goes  on  his  way  at  a  bounding  pace. 
Crossing  the  ferry,  a  mile  or  so  beyond  the  river, 
just  as  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  lingered  on  the 
tree  tops,  he  turned  off  abruptly  from  the  high 
way  he  was  pursuing  into  the  depth  of  a  large 
virgin  forest.  He  had  gone  but  a  short  way  in 
his  new  direction,  when  he  was  startled  by  a  noise 
which  resembled,  in  thrilling  intensity  and  pro 
longed  horror,  the  war-whoop  of  an  Indian  savage; 
but  as  the  last  relic  of  the  interesting  race  of 
yore  had  long  ago  disappeared  from  these  once 
familiar  haunts,  of  course  the  sound  could  net  be 
referred  to  any  such  alarming  source.  Stopping 
his  horse,  he  sought  an  explanation  of  the  rude 
clamor  which,  judging  by  the  effect  on  his  own 
nerves,  had  so  frightened  the  peaceful  denizens  of 
the  silvan  bowers  from  their  propriety.  He  was 
not  long  in  ascertaining  that  it  proceeded  from  a 
pair  of  lusty  lungs  bawling  away  at  a  song  with 
a  stentorian  gusto  which  set  at  defiance  all  the 
laws  of  melodious  concord.  The  words  of  the 
obstreperous  ditty  betrayed  the  vocalist's  zest  for 
the  noblest  of  manly  sports.  Here  is  a  specimen, 
as  near  as  we  could  come  at  the  words: 

On  yonder  bill  there  sits   a  hare, 
Oppressed  with  sorrow,  grief  and  care, 
Because  her  prospects  are  so  bare ; 
ITalloo,   boys,  halloo  ! 


WOODBOURNE.  19 

The  refrain  being  rendered  at  a  pitch  that  made 
the  woods  to  ring,  and  set  the  owls  to  screeching 
and  hooting  in  mocking  chorus./  It  was  this 
unearthly  diapason,  which  might  have  been  likened 
unto  the  hideous  yell  of  the  lurking  red  devil  as 
he  springs  from  his  lair,  and  the  next  moment  the 
gleaming  tomahawk  hurtles  through  the  air  and 
crashes  into  the  skull  of  the  unsuspecting  way 
farer.  But  to  our  sprightly  cavalier  there  is  some 
thing  irresistibly  ludicrous  in  the  mixed  concourse 
of  diabolical  sounds,  and  he  greets  the  nnlooked 
for  serenade  with  a  loud  peal  of  laughter.  Then, 
as  the  lines  come  so  pat,  he  cannot  forbear  to 
shout  them  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice: 

''S'.lence,   ye  wolves,   while  Ralph  to   Cynthia  howls. 
And  makes  night  hideous ;  answer  him,  ye  owls ! " 

"In  Saint  Hubert's  name,  Dickon,  stop  your  hor 
rible  racket;  you  have  scared  the  'molly-cottontails' 
out  of  their  wits."  The  adjuration  Avas  addressed 
to  the  owner  of  the  enviable  lungs,  who  now 
appeared  to  view  in  the  person  of  another  horse 
man  coming  along  a  bridle-path  through  the  woods 
— a  big-boned,  strong-limbed,  young  giant  he  was, 
with  such  a  wilderness  of  light-colored  hair  about 
his  face  and  neck  that  scarcely  anything  could  be 
seen  of  his  features.  So  much  as  was  visible 
showed  extremely  prepossessing,,  and  the  careless, 
free-and-easy  abandon  of  his  mien,  as  Avell  as  the 
merry  light  which  danced  and  sparkled  in  his 
clear,  blue  eyes,  betokened  a  heart  which  was  on 
the  best  terms  with  itself,  and  all  the  world 
beside.  He  was  encased  in  buckskin  cap-a-pie,  save 


20  WOODBOURNE. 

that  he  wore  the  stoutest  of  high-topped  boots  that 
ever  "skelpit  through  dub  and  mire."  A  large 
silver-mounted  horn  hung  by  a  cord  under  his 
arm,  at  his  saddle  bow  was  displayed  the  trophy 
which  proclaimed  him  victor  in  the  day's  hunt, 
and  a  brace  of  fagged  and  foot-sore  fox  hounds  of 
the  genuine  "black  St.  Hubert's  breed"  limped  at 
his  horse's  heels. 

"Why,  Harry,"  exclaimed  the  newcomer,  as  he 
rode  up  and  shook  the  traveler  warmly  by  the 
hand,  "where  did  you  drop  from;  is  this  the  way 
you  keep  promises  ?  We  looked  for  you  to  join 
us  to-day  without  fail — that  was  your  word." 

"  If  I  lived  and  nothing  happened,"  replied  his 
merry  companion,  whom  we  introduce  as  young 
Henry  Carleton,  of  that  ilk.  "You  may  be  sure  it 
was  not  my  fault,  Dick,  that  I  did  not  give  you 
a  tilt  for  the  brush  I  see  you  have  there.  My 
father,  who  is  just  returned  from  Eichmond, 
detained  me  all  morning  writing  letters  for  him, 
until  it  was  too  late  for  me  to  take  part  in  your 
hunt.  You  may  see  I  was  in  trim  for  the  fray/'* 
pointing  to  his  nether  garment. 

"Well,"  replied  Alloway,  accepting  his  friend's 
explanation,  "I  am  delighted  to  see  you  all  the 
same,  though  you  certainly  did  miss  a  glorious 
treat — just  one  uproarious  frolic  from  beginning  to 
end ;  men,  dogs  and  horses  perfectly  frantic  with 
delight,"  and  with  true  sportman's  enthusiasm,  he 
launched  forth  in  an  animated  description  of  the 
chase,  as  they  rode  on  together. 

"  Oh,  I  witnessed  the  grand  closing  scene  from 
the  ferry  hill,"  said  Carleton,  interrupting  the  flow 


WOODBOURNE.  21 

of  Somervilian  eloquence.  "Tell  me,  who  was  the 
spruce-looking  fellow  on  the  gallant  grey,  who 
seemed  to  be  pushing  you  so  hard  for  the  prize?" 

"Pushing  me  so  hard?  You  may  well  say  that," 
replied  Alloway,  "for  if  his  horse  had  not  tripped 
over  a  hanging  vine  and  tumbled  the  fine  gentle 
man  over  its  head,  he  would  have  undoubtedly 
won  the  race  by  several  lengths.  He  wasn't  a 
bit  hurt  by  the  fall ;  but  you  should  have  heard 
him  swear  at  his  horse  in  the  most  outlandish 
gibberish,  as  if  the  poor  animal  could  help  the 
vine's  being  in  the  way.  Who  is  he  ?  That's  pre 
cisely  what  I  would  like  to  find  out;  none  of  the 
party  knew  anything  about  him.  He  landed  among 
us  right  out  of  the  clouds ;  pitched  like  fury  into 
the  sport  without  asking  anybody's  leave,  and  when 
it  was  over  he  vanished  in  a  flash  no  one  saw 
whither." 

Carleton. — "What's  he  like,  this  terrible  hobgoblin 
of  the  chase?" 

Alloway. — "Oh,  good  enough  looking,  for  that 
matter,  if  he  wasn't  so  infernally  black — I  don't 
mean  his  skin,  which  is  none  of  the  fairest — his 
eyes  and  hair,  especially  his  eyes — they  looked  like 
two  great  lumps  of  charcoal  with  the  light  shining 
through  'em,  and  Jupiter!  how  the  sparks  flew  out 
of  'em  when  his  horse  threw  him — like  a  whole 
blazing  pile  of  hickory  logs  spitting  fire  all  at 
once.  One  thing  I  must  say  for  the  fellow,  he 
certainly  knows  how  to  sit  a  horse,  and  had  he 
not  shown  a  spice  of  the  devil  in  his  temper,  I 
would  have  desired  better  acquaintance,  instead  of 
leaving  him  and  his  horse  to  settle  their  little 
misunderstanding  the  best  way  they  could." 


22  WOODBOURXE. 

Carle/on. — "Xow,  you  have  described  an  Italian 
brigand  or  other  sort  of  gentleman-like  cutthroat." 

The  big  sportsman  jerked  up  his  shoulders  in 
sign  of  contempt,  and  would  have  replied,  doubt 
less,  in  a  manner  the  gesture  implied,  had  not  the 
sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  close  by  cut  short  the  col 
loquy.  At  the  same  instant  a  squirrel  came  bound 
ing  from  an  overhanging  limb  a  rod  in  front  of 
them,  and  had  barely  touched  the  ground  before  a 
stout,  half-grown  stripling  sprang  into  the  road,  gun 
in  hand,  and,  snatching  up  the  game,  held  it  aloft 
in  triumph,  his  face  betokening  the  liveliest  pleas/ire. 

"Well  shot,  Archie,"  exclaimed  Alloway;  "from 
a  rest,  I'll  wager." 

"Indeed  it  was  not,  Mr.  Alloway,  it  was  a  fair 
off-hand  shot,  and  I  did  not  see  anything  but  its 
head,  either,"  protested  the  youth,  pointing  to  the 
wound  behind  the  creature's  ear. 

"I  only  jested,"  replied  Alloway;  "it  is  not  the 
first  proof  I  have  had  of  your  marksmanship.  But 
it  is  too  late  for  another  shot;  come,  mount  behind, 
I  am  going  to  take  you  home  with  'me." 

"No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Alloway,"  replied  the  lad, 
"I  have  not  been  out  on  a  regular  hunt;  I  just 
came  on  an  errand  for  father,  and  must  hasten 
back.  He  says  he  wants  you  to  come  over  early 
in  the  morning  and  attend  to  that  little  matter  he 
spoke  to  you  about  several  days  ago;  I  suppose  you 
know  what  it  is,  I  am  sure  I  do  not." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  understand,"  said  Alloway ;  "  say  to 
your  father  that  I  will  be  on  hand  between  nine 
and  ten  o'clock,  and  be  sure  and  tell  your  mother 
it  was  my  fault  that  you  did  not  get  home  to 
supper." 


WOODBOURXE.  23 

"Oh,  I'll  bo  there  by  candle-light,"  laughingly 
exclaimed  the  boy,  as  he  bounded  away  through 
the  woods  like  a  deer. 

"A  pretty  youth,  Dick,"  said  Carleton,  as  they 
resumed  their  journey;  "who  is  he?" 

"  The  very  question  I  was  asking  myself  for  the 
hundredth  time,"  replied  Alloway.  "Archie  is  a 
fine,  manly  little  fellow;  I  wish  I  knew  more  about 
him." 

Carleton. — "  Not  know  who  the  boy  is  ?  why  you 
seem  well  acquainted  with  his  father." 

Alloway. — "There's  the  quandary;  Archie  is  a  fos 
ter-child.  If  I  only  could  muster  courage  to  ask 
the  collector." 

Carleton. — "The  collector?  Pray  Avhat  new  riddle 
is  that,  you  incorrigible  sphinx?" 

Allowaij. — "The  collector,  the  great  exciseman,  the 
tax -gathering  plenipotentiary  of  our  Caesar- Augustus; 
who  else  could  it  be  but  old  Jake  Thompson,  the 
most  redoubtable  tory  inside  of  the  capes." 

Carleton. — "I  have  frequently  heard  of  the  eccen 
tric  Mr.  Jacob  Thompson,  but  not  by  that  for 
midable  designation." 

Alloway. — "And  you  never  heard  how  he  earned 
the  title?  Ah,  I  remember,  you  Avere  at  college 
when  it  happened.  Mr.  Lee  was  addressing  a  large 
gathering  of  the  rebellious  clans  at  the  court  house, 
when  Mr.  Thompson  suddenly  burst  in  among  the 
crowd,  boiling  over  with  indignation.  He  called 
the  speaker  a  vile  incendiary,  traitor,  demagogue, 
and  the  like,  and  warned  the  people  not  to  listen 
to  his  seditious  harangue.  Parliament,  he  said,  not 
only  had  the  right  to  tax  them,  but  ought  to  tax 


24  WOODBOURXE. 

them  till  they  groaned;  it  was  a  glorious  privilege 
to  pay  tribute  to  such  a  beneficent  government, 
and  if  his  blessed  majesty  •would  only  make  him 
collector-general  of  his  dominions  in  America,  he 
would  teach  his  refractory  subjects  a  lesson  of 
obedience  to  lawful  authority  they  would  not  forget 
in  a  hurry.  The  irate  gentleman  soon  discovered 
that  he  was  in  the  wrong  pew;  he  was  hustled 
out  amid  a  storm  of  yells  and  hoots,  and  it  was 
as  much  as  we  could  do  to  keep  the  populace 
from  giving  him  a  chairing  after  the  vulgar  fashion. 
From  that  day  he  has  been  known  by  a  variety 
of  nicknames,  all  indicating  the  supreme  object  of 
his  loyal  ambition.  Here,  everybody,  down  to  the 
school-boys,  calls  him  Collector  Thompson,  and  far 
from  resenting  their  familiarity,  he  actually  glories 
in  the  popular  recognition  of  his  zeal  in  his  royal 
master's  service.  Once  in  a  while  he  breaks  out 
and  ramps  and  raves  like  all  bedlam  let  loose;  but 
take  him  right,  you  will  find  him  to  be  at  bot 
tom  a  very  good  kind  of  an  old  heathen — doesn't 
bear  a  particle  of  malice,  and  is  openhanded  and 
honest  as  the  day." 

Carleton. — "But  what  has  the  old  tory  to  do 
with  the  boy?" 

Alloway. — "Everything — he  and  his  wife.  Having 
no  children  of  their  own,  they  ha,ve  adopted  Archie; 
but  where  they  picked  him  up,  I  have  not  the 
remotest  idea." 

Carleton. — "Another  Tom  Jones  in  embryo,  very 
likely.  Come  now,  Dick,  who  do  you  suppose  the 
wild  huntsman  to  be ;  for  to  me,  he  is  a  more 
interesting  personage  than  your  little  foundling.'5 


WOODBOUKXE.  25 

Another   pronounced   shrug  was  all   the   reply. 

Carleton. — "A  brave  set  of  fellows,  truly;  twenty 
of  you  to  one  poor  forlorn  foreigner,  and  not  one 
had  the  courage  to  ask  him  a  civil  question.  How 
I  wish  I  had  been  there." 

Alloivay. — "What  would  you  have  done?  most 
puissant  imp  of  valor." 

Carleton. — "What  would  I  have  done?  Why,  first 
of  all,  I  would  have  gone  to  the  relief  of  the  dis 
comfited  unknown  cavalier  and  helped  him  to 
remount;  next,  I  would  have  felicitated  him,  in  i\ 
delicate  way,  on  his  superb  horsemanship,  and  ten 
dered  him  the  prize,  which  an  untoward  accident 
deprived  him  of;  and,  in  fine,  I  would  have  gen- 
early  dispensed  him  the  hospitable  treatment  which 
is  due  to  a  stranger  and  a  gentleman — common 
politeness,  nothing  more.  Suppose  now,  this  terti- 
ble  person  should  turn  out  to  be  what  I  verily 
suspect  he  is — " 

"No  more  of  that,  Hal,  an'  thou  lovest  me," 
exclaimed  Alloway,  retreating  behind  an  apt  quota 
tion.  "And  since  you  speak  of  politeness,  I  am 
reminded  to  say,  welcome  to  Woodbourne,  if  you 
have  been  all  this  while  paying  me  that  long 
promised  visit." 

"  There,  again,  my  dear  friend,  I  am  not  to 
blame,"  replied  Carleton.  "It  was  impossible  for 
me  to  leave  home  while  my  father  was  absent  on 
that  plaguey  Indian  business ;  and  ever  since  he 
came  back  he  has  had  me  constantly  at  work  in 
the  fourfold  capacity  of  scribe,  amanuensis,  con 
fidential  secretary,  and  general  factotem.  I  am  only 
this  moment  relieved  of  my  multifarious  task;  my 


2G  WOODBOURXE. 

luggage  is  on  the  way,  and  you  are  not  going  to 
be  rid  of  me  for  some  days." 

"Only  stay  until  you  wear  your  welcome  out, 
and  I  will  overlook  past  transgressions,"  replied 
Alloway,  in  his  hearty  manner. 

By  this  time  they  had  gotten  clear  of  the  for 
est,  and,  passing  through  a  gateway  which  opened 
upon  a  wide  lawn,  Avere  approaching  a  large  and 
comely  mansion,  half  hidden  in  a  tuft  of  sheltering 
trees,  and  perched  upon  the  summit  of  what,  in 
that  country,  was  regarded  as  a  somewhat  ambi 
tious  knoll.  This  was  AVoodbourne,  the  goodly  resi 
dence  of  Mr.  Richard  Austin  Alloway,  where  he 
maintained,  with  a  very  bad  grace,  it  was  said,  his 
present  reign  of  solitary  grandeur. 


CHAPTER   III. 


R.  RICHARD  ALLOWAY'S  mother  was 
an  Austin.  The  founder  of  the  Virginia 
family  of  that  name  was  the  younger  son 
of  a  younger  brother,  who  appears  to  have 
drifted  hither  towards  the  close  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  At  an  early  period  of  his  life  he  set 
out  from  Kent  County,  England,  to  seek  his  for 
tune  wheresoever  lie  could  find  it,  and  in  his  .case 
the  proverb  of  the  rolling  stone  received  a  flat 
contradiction.  His  various  enterprises  on  land  and 
sea  met  with  unvarying  success,  and  he  rapidly 
accumulated  a  considerable  store  of  wealth.  Jamaica 
was  the  last  field  of  his  commercial  operations. 
Thence  he  removed  to  Virginia,  having  previously 
invested  the  bulk  of  his  large  means  in  land  and 
negro  slaves.  He  now  abandoned  mercantile  pur 
suits,  and  became  a  planter  of  magnificent  propor 
tions.  From  this  description,  it  is  easy  to  infer 
that  Mr.  Richard  Austin  the  elder  was  one  of 
those  solid  men  of  whom  the  saw,  "  Better  to  be 
born  lucky  than  rich,"  was  written,  and  who,  in 
all  the  mutations  of  human  affairs,  never  lose  sight 
of  the  main  chance  nor  let  go  an  opportunity  to 
turn  an  honest  penny.  Had  he  devoted  himself 


28  WOODBOUR5TE. 

body  and  soul  to  the  service  of  Mammon,  he 
would  in  all  probability  have  become  the  reigning 
monarch  of  Change  Alley,  and,  dying,  left  a  pile  in 
the  funds  for  executorial  "rooks,  committee  men 
and  trustees,"  to  squander  in  contingent  fees  and 
incidental  expenses,  to  say  nothing  of  fat  salaries  to 
countless  dispensers  of  infinitesimal  benefactions  to 
the  widow  and  fatherless.  0,  blind  heaper-up  of 
the  shining  hoard,  why  should  you  be  so  much 
concerned  about  the  disposition  of  your  toilsome 
gains  when  you  yourself  shall  have  been  hutched 
in  the  insatiable  grave?  What  difference  will  it 
make  in  the  general  account  of  human  happiness 
whether 

To  heirs  unknown  descends  the  unguarded  store, 
Or  wanders,   Heaven  directed,   to  the  poo;-? 

It  was  Richard  Austin's  son  who  designed  the 
capacious  dwelling  that  erstwhile  looked  down  in 
stately  pride  from  the  crest  of  yonder  sedgy  knoll, 
and  of  which  naught  remains  to  tell  the  tale  save 
a  crumbling  heap  of  bricks  and  mortar,  and  the 
charred  end  or  two  of  a  beam  or  rafter.  It  was 
burned  by  the  British  in  the  war  of  1812,  one  of 
the  many  similar  acts  of  vandalism  of  which  the 
locality  retains  the  proof  to  this  day. 

Mr.  John  Austin  Avas  liberally  educated  at  the 
best  schools  in  England,  obtained  a  degree  at 
Oxford,  and  received  the  extra  polishing  of  the 
grand  Continental  tour.  That  he  made  the  most 
of  his  opportunities  is  evident  from  the  fact,  that 
had  he  not  been  a  man  of  rare  talents  and  acquire 
ments,  he  could  not  possibly  have  attained  to  the 


"VVOODBOURHE.  29 

honors  he  in  after  years  enjoyed,  having,  at  different 
times,  been  a  member  of  Council,  sat  several  ses 
sions  in  the  House  of  Burgesses,  and  filled,  as  long 
as  he  desired  it,  the  responsible  office  of  Presiding 
Justice  and  High  Sheriff  of  the  county.  Under 
his  forming  hands  Woodbourne  blossomed  as  a  rose 
in  the  wilderness,  and  displayed  in  every  feature 
the  evidences  of  a  cultivated  mind  and  refined 
taste.  To  this  day  the  name  recalls  whatever  of 
elegant  ease,  solid  comfort  and  social  pleasure  found, 
an  abode  within  "the  ancient,  hospitable  hall 

Whose  vaulted  roof    once  rung  to  harmless   mirth  : 
Where  every  passing  stranger  was   a  guest, 
And  every  guest  a  friend." 

For  all  that  the  house  had  Us  skeleton.  Here, 
as  everywhere,  the  stream  of  happiness  was  "the 
torrent's  smoothness  ere  it  falls  below."  This  pic 
ture  of  joy  and  gladness  could  not  last  for  the 
brief  space  of  one  man's  life,  and  the  last  days  of 
Mr.  John  Austin's  career  on  earth  repeat  the  sad, 
sad  story  of  the  vanity  of  human  wishes.  He  had 
but  one  son,  the  youngest  of  seven  children,  and 
although  he  was  far  from  wanting  affection  for 
his  daughters,  the  boy  had  been  the  principal 
object  of  his  pride  and  care.  The  good  dominie 
who  held  the  station  of  private  tutor  in  the  family 
was  not  permitted  to  have  exclusive  control  of  his 
pupil's  training.  The  fond  father  devoted  every 
leisure  moment  to  the  grateful  task,  and  deemed 
himself  abundantly  rewarded  for  his  diligent  pains. 
The  boy  was  sprightly,  apt  and  ambitious  to  learn, 
and  not  only  did  he  master  with  ease  the  lessons 

3* 


30  WOODBOURXE. 

which  were  assigned  him,  but  by  the  time  he  was 
seventeen  years  old  he  had  read  through  every  book 
of  travel,  history  and  polite  literature  in  his  father's 
well-stored  library,  and  thus  acquired  an  amazing 
deal  of  miscellaneous  information.  With  these  advan 
tages  he  "was  sent  to  the  college  at  Williamsburg, 
and  it  was  intended,  when  he  had  taken  the  course 
there,  he  should  complete  his  studies  abroad. 

In  the  bright  annals  of  the  Old  Dominion  there 
is  no  name  of  purer  lustre  than  that  of  Commis 
sary  Blair,  the  pioneer  of  letters,  to  whom  belongs 
the  imperishable  honor  of  having  erected  a  temple 
where  all  the  wisdom  of  the  old  world  Egyptians 
could  be  had  without  encountering  the  perils  and 
cost  of  a  double  voyage  across  the  ocean.  His 
darling  foster-child  was  now  grown  to  be  a  flourish 
ing  seminary  of  science  and  literature.  In  another 
decade  it  became  the  prolific  nursery  of  republican 
genius,  the  fountain  to  which  the  brightest  intel- 
1<ects  of  the  colony  repaired,  and  "in  their  golden 
urns  drew  light." 

Thoroughly  accoutred  by  previous  careful  prepa 
ration,  Richard  Austin  enlisted  with  the  fairest 
auspices  in  the  earnest  and  jealous  contests  of  his 
new  arena.  Among  his  associates  were  a  score  of 
ardent  competitors,  all  eager  to  endure  the  suffo 
cating  heat  and  dust  of  the  Olympic  course  to 
win  the  victor's  crown  of  glory.  Naturally,  his 
disposition  was  the  most  amiable  and  gentle;  he 
was  ingenuous,  frank  and  warm-hearted  to  a  fault, 
and  the  current  of  his  feelings  and  affections 
usually  flowed  in  a  strong,  even  and  pellucid  chan 
nel.  Whilst  he  was  a  general  favorite  with  his 


WOODBOUKNE.  31 

fellow-students,  lie  had  especially  singled  out  one 
among  the  number  for  his  warmest  and  most  inti 
mate  regard,  and  this  attachment  gradually  ripened 
into  a  friendship  passing  the  love  of  women. 

The  session  was  drawing  to  a  close;  the  final 
examinations  were  close  at  hand,  and  the  candi 
dates  for  the  various  badges  of  merit  vied  with 
each  other  in  unremitting  application  to  their 
absorbing  duties.  Foremost  in  the  generous  race 
were  Richard  Austin  and  his  friend,  Reginald 
Aubrey,  twin  stars  in  the  galaxy  of  academic  dis 
tinction.  In  the  midst  of  the  animated  contest,  a 
marked  change  was  observed  in  Richard's  deport 
ment;  he  grew  suddenly  morose  and  cynical, 
neglected  his  books,  and  went  moping  about  in  soli 
tary  despondency.  One  evening,  while  the  spell 
was  on  him,  he  was  crossing  the  college  campus, 
where  a  number  of  students  were  playing  at  cricket, 
when  one  of  them  thoughtlessly  accosted  him  in 
what  he  conceived  to  be  an  insulting  and  jeering 
manner.  Instantly  he  stooped,  and,  seizing  a  large 
stone,  threw  it  with  all  his  strength  at  the  offender's 
head.  The  deadly  missile  flew  harmlessly  past 
the  mark  at  which  it  was  aimed,  to  find  a  dearer 
victim,  and  striking  poor  Aubrey  full  upon  the 
temple,  felled  him  to  the  earth.  The  blow  was 
fatal.  Let  ns  not  linger  on  the  harrowing  story. 
The  anguish  and  remorse  of  the  unhappy  young 
man  were  terrible  beyond  description;  and  when 
his  father  came  to  take  him  home,  his  sorrowful 
companions  could  scarcely  recognize,  in  the  stony 
image  of  voiceless  and  tearless  woe  around  which 
they  stood  weeping,  a  trace  of  the  once  light- 


32  WOODBOUIINE. 

hearted  leader  of  their  sportive  pastimes,  and  many 
wondered  if  it  were  not  better  to  be  with  him 
whom  they  had  tenderly  laid  to  rest  in  the  silent 
grave.  Ah,  could  he  have  whispered  one  little 
word,  or  had  he  even  smiled  in  his  sleep  when 
the  cry  of  wild,  despairing  agony  burst  from  the 
wretched  .form  that  bent  over  him  as  he  lay  so 
cold  and  still  upon  the  ground !  Alas !  there  was 
no  solacing  remembrance — no  transient  gleam  of 
compassion— no  drop  of  healing  balm  in  the  over 
flowing  cup  of  hopeless  misery.  Like  a  plummet 
the  soul  of  Eeginald  Aubrey  dropped  into  the 
ocean  of  eternity,  and  from  that  moment  llichard 
Austin  was  rarely  ever  seen  to  smile. 

Thus  it  happened  that  one  flash  of  an  angry 
spirit  had  kindled  a  fire  which  consumed  to  ashes 
as  fair  a  temple  as  was  ever  fashioned  by  skill 
divine.  0,  wretched  man,  voyager  on  life's  uncer 
tain  main,  be  not  beguiled  into  false  security  because 
the  sea  is  calm  and  the  stars  are  shining  brightly 
over  your  head.  In  calm  and  storm  alike  be  ever 
watchful  and  circumspect.  To  the  wary  pilot  the 
ripple  on  the  glassy  surface  gives  warning  of  the 
jagged  reef  that  lurks  below.  Let  that  strong 
hand  for  an  instant  loose  its  hold  upon  the  helm, 
and  the  frail  vessel  which  bears  your  soul's  eternal 
fortunes  is  engulphed  in  the  yawning  deep,  or 
drifts,  a  shattered  and  helpless  wreck  on  the  bosom 
of  the  remorseless  wave.  Beware !  beware !  or  else 
learn,  when  it  is  too  late,  that  to  the  mind  which 
is  not  already  callous  grown  in  sin  there  may 
come  an  anguish  which  cannot  be  wearied  down, 
a  pang  which  cannot  be  assuaged. 


•\VOODBOURNE.  33 

For  weeks  the  grief  of  Richard  Austin  was 
excessive,  and  manifested  itself  in  such  fearful  con 
vulsions  that  his  father  inwardly  prayed  for  death 
to  come  and  release  him  from  suffering.  At  length 
these  violent  paroxysms  ceased  entirely,  and  were 
succeeded  by  another  form  of  malady,  less  poignant 
in  the  excruciating  torture  of  the  body,  but  dis 
tressing  beyond  measure,  inasmuch  as  it  foreshad- 
OAved  the  worst  calamity  which  could  befall  the 
unhappy  youth.  He  sunk  into  a  deep,  pervading, 
listless  melancholy;  a  thick,  impenetrable  pall  of 
gloomy  dejection  shrouded  his  whole  being;  it  was 
the  acme  of  the  misery  which  "rejoiceth  exceed 
ingly,  and  is  glad  when  it  can  find  the  grave." 
Hour  after  hour  he  sat,  silent  and  motionless, 
gazing  on  vacancy,  and  when  he  was  with  difficulty 
pursuaded  to  move  at  all,  he  walked  with  uncer 
tain  and  tottering  steps,  as  one  whose  senses  were 
completely  dazed  and  who  had  lost  the  faculty  of 
volition.  The  family  physician  now  gravely  shook 
his  head,  and  frankly  confessed  that  his  patient 
was  beyond  the  reach  of  any  remedy  he  possessed. 
There  was  but  one  recourse  left,  he  said,  which 
promised  a  chance  of  success.  He  had  known  a 
change  of  air  and  scene  to  prove  efficacious  in 
similar  disorders  after  the  ordinary  appliances  of 
medical  skill  had  been  exhausted  in  vain.  The 
advice  was  taken.  To  his  father's  great  joy,  Eichard 
yielded  readily  to  his  entreaties,  and  they  set  out 
on  a  voyage  to  England.  The  result  showed  the 
value  of  Dr.  Harrington's  prescription.  The  trip 
across  the  ocean  of  itself  wrought  a  miracle  of 
cure,  which  Mr.  Austin  had  not  dared  to  hope 


34  WOODBOURNE. 

for ;  there  was  a  precious  elixir  in  the  far-sweeping 
breezes  unknown  to  human  science,  and  when  they 
reached  their  destination  Richard  was  so  far  restored 
to  health  as  to  evince  a  lively  interest  in  the  unac 
customed  sights  and  scenes  around  him.  In  a  little 
while  the  cloud  which  hung  upon  his  mind  slowly 
lifted  and  floated  away,  and  the  light  shone  out 
again.  But  not  with  the  radiance  of  its  early 
beams.  It  was  no  longer  the  glory  of  the  sun, 
sparkling  with  myriad  hues  of  ever-changing  bright 
ness;  but  a  soft,  dreamy  and  subdued  influence  of 
moon  and  stars,  as  of  a  halo  from  another  world. 
The  beautiful  visions  of  life's  morning  march,  the 
glowing  aspirations  for  worldly  fame  and  rewards, 
the  fairy  forms  and  fantasies  of  young  desire,  each 
object  of  passionate  love  and  eager  anticipation, 
which  had  imparted  energy  and  animation  to  his 
heart,  appeared  through  the  mystic  drapery  of  that 
serene  shadowy  twilight  of  the  soul,  like  an  unsub 
stantial  pageant  fast  fading  from  sight.  The  old 
vivacity  and  humor,  the  bounding  pulse,  the  elastic 
step,  the  gay,  soaring  spirit  were  gone,  and  instead 
of  these  was  a  quiet,  sedate,  earnest  and  contem 
plative  demeanor,  as  if  the  mind  was  constantly 
occupied  with  dark  communings  on  subjects  of 
everlasting  import.  This  was,  indeed,  the  very  crisis 
of  his  fate.  A  deadly  blight  had  fallen  upon  his 
prospects  and  fame.  He  had  no  pleasure  in  the 
diversions  where  happiness  is  usually  sought.  His 
heart  was  a  fountain  of  bitter  waters,  and  despair 
presented  its  poisoned  chalice  to  his  lips.  But 
thanks  to  his  early  complete  religious  training,  he, 
in  this  supreme  moment  of  mortal  agony,  turned  a 


WOODBOURNE.  35 

deaf  ear  to  the  voice  of  the  tempter,  and  taking  up 
his  heavy  cross  bore  it  with  unmurmuring  patience 
to  the  end. 

Eichard  Austin  had  remained  abroad  scarcely  a 
year,  when  he  was  summoned  home  by  the  illness 
of  his  father.  Here  he  arrived  in  time  to  close 
the  dying  eyes  of  his  only  parent,  and  a  few 
months  afterwards  he  was  called  upon  to  perform 
the  same  sad  task  in  the  case  of  the  unmarried 
oldest  sister,  who  had  been  to  him  from  infancy 
in  the  place  of  the  mother  he  had  never  seen. 
Of  his  remaining  sisters,  Mrs.  .Allovvay  alone  resided 
in  the  vicinity  of  Woodbourne;  the  others  were  scat 
tered  far  and  wide  over  the  colony.  All  of  them 
were  happily  married,  and  did  not  require  his  aid 
and  protection.  So,  having  arranged  his  affairs,  and 
given  all  needful  instructions  to  his  overseer,  he 
locked  up  the  house,  handed  the  key  to  the  faith 
ful  old  butler,  and  once  again  crossed  the  Atlantic, 
this  time  to  become  an  aimless  and  solitary  wan 
derer  in  foreign  lands.  He  left  an  address  with 
Mrs.  Alloway  where  letters  would  reach  him,  but 
he  did  not  answer  one  of  the  many  which  she, 
with  true  sisterly  affection,  continued  to  write  all 
the  same  as  though  he  had  been  the  most  punc 
tual  of  correspondents. 

Years  rolled  by,  and  still  no  tidings  came  from 
him,  nor  could  the  persistent  inquiries  of  the  friends 
who,  from  time  to  time,  visited  Europe  discover  the 
faintest  trace  of  his  footsteps.  His  secret  was 
known  to  but  two  bosoms,  by  whom  it  was  held 
in  the  close  embrace  of  professional  confidence — that 
of  the  old  lawyer  who  had  been  his  father's  most 


36  WOODBOURNE. 

intimate  friend  and  counsellor  in  his  private  and 
public  affairs,  and  of  his  agent  in  London. 

Mrs.  Alloway  went  regularly  to  Woodbourae  four 
or  five  times  a  year  to  make  a  thorough  inspection 
of  the  premises,  and  especially  to  see  that  the 
flowers  were  properly  cared  for,  and  the  fruit  trees 
did  not  suffer  for  want  of  pruning.  To  her  the 
old  place  was  always  home,  and  nowhere  else  did 
the  roses  and  dahlias  bloom  so  gorgeously,  nor  the 
plums  and  apricots  hang  with  such  tempting 
lusciousness.  On  these  visits  she  was  accompanied 
by  the  children,  in  whose  eyes  grandfather's  house, 
as  they  called  it,  was  a  miracle  of  magnificence, 
which  laughed  Aladdin's  palace  to  scorn.  What  a 
merry  sight  it  was,  to  see  these  little  elves  drop 
suddenly  from  the  clouds,  and  put  to  rout  the 
legions  of  grim  spectres  lurking  there,  in  that 
sombre  and  forsaken  abode.  How  they  scampered 
through  the  house,  chased  around  the  lawn, 
tumbled  over  the  flower-beds,  climbed  the  cherry 
trees,  swung  upon  the  garden  gate,  ransacked  the 
poultry  yard,  performed  every  imaginable  mischiev 
ous  antic,  and  raised  such  a  din  about  the  ears  of 
Uncle  George  Hamilton,  the  sable  factotum  in 
charge,  that  he  wished  them  a  thousand  times  in 
Jericho,  and  wondered  what  Miss  Jane  could  have 
been  thinking  about  to  fetch  them  there  to  "towse 
and  mummock  things  to  pieces  that  sort  o'  way." 
But  Miss  Jane  did  not  pay  the  slightest  attention 
to  the  grand  airs  of  her  brother's  prime  minister, 
and  the  children  gamboled  on  in  unrebuked  glee- 
fulness. 

Master  Richard  Austin  Alloway  was  now  a  great, 


WOODBOURXE.  37 

gawky,  hobble-de-hoy  urchin,  with  a,  freckled  face, 
a  tangled  shock  of  sandy  hair,  a  small  flock  of 
goslings  in  his  voice,  and  a  superabundance  o-f 
good  humor  and  animal  spirits.  He  had  learned 
to  ride  and  shoot,  to  fish  and  hunt,  and  to  swim 
like  a  duck,  to  bridle  a  three-year  old,  and  break 
him,  too,  to  worm  a  dog,  and  phlegm  a  horse — in 
a  word,  he  was  a  very  prince  of  the  tribe  of 
Xiinrod,  and  the  Admirable  Crichton  of  rustic 
accomplishments.'  Of  the  nectared  sweets  of  learn 
ing,  he  does  appear  to  have  been  particularly  fond, 
being  like  other  truants  given  to  exclaim,  jam  satis, 
before  testing  the  fast  whether  crude  surfeit  reigned 
in  repletion.  In  Latin,  Caesar's  bridge  was  an  ever 
lasting  stumbling  block,  and  as  for  Greek,  the 
very  alphabet  was  the  quintessence  of  foolishness. 
But  although  hs  was  not  on  speaking  terms  with 
the  heroes  of  Homer  and  Virgil,  he  was  well  up 
in  English  history,  and  had  by  heart  the  -entire 
catalogue  of  British  celebrities,  from  Boadicca,  war 
like  queen,  to  Captain  James  Cook,  the  latest  won 
der  of  the  world.  Moreover,  he  knew  perfectly  well 
that  the  world  was.  round  like  a  ball,  and  not  flat, 
like  a  pan-cake;  that  the  old  turn  and  turn  about 
theory  was  all  gammon,  and  that  the  earth  revolved 
on  its  own  "axle-tree"  once  in  twenty-four  hours, 
and  circumgyrated  round  the  sun  in  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  days  and  a  fraction  over,  which 
explained  all  about  night  and  day,  and  winter  and 
summer,  and  led  to  the  invention  of  the  mariner's 
compass  and  the  discovery  of  America!  Add  to 
the  list  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  exploits 
of  "Jack-the-Giant-Killer,"  the  wonders  of  the 

4 


38  WOODBOURNE. 

"Arabian  Nights,"  the  adventures  of  "Robinson 
Crusoe,"  and  such  knowledge  of  the  Episcopal  cate 
chism  as  a  pious  mother's  unremitting  care  did  not 
fail  to  supply,  and  this  inventory  of  Master  Dick's 
then  acquirements  is  well  nigh  complete. 

The  fields  and  forests  of  Woodbourne  were  a 
favorite  resort  of  this  young  poacher,  and  if,  which 
was  rarely  the  case,  he  did  not  succeed  in  filling 
his  game-bag,  he  was  sure  to  come  back  with  his 
pockets  groaning  with  the  spoils  of  the  orchard. 
There  were  no  interdicted  preserves  in  this  part  of 
the  colony,  and  the  sportsman  was  free  to  roam 
and  ravage  at  will ;  yet  there  was  an  illusion  of 
forbidden  pleasure  to  Richard  in  thus  trespassing 
on  his  uncle's  domain,  from  the  fact  that  it  was 
highly  displeasing  to  the  august  functionary  we 
have  spoken  of,  who  looked  upon  it  as  an  offence, 
nothing  short  of  Uze  ma  jest  ie  to  shoot  a  squirrel 
in  the  gum-spring  woods! 

One  day,  towards  the  end  of  the  month  of  Octo 
ber,  1770,  Richard  had  started  with  his  gun  and 
dog  on  one  of  these  predatory  excursions  to  Wood- 
bourne,  saying,  as  usual,  that  they  might  not  look 
for  him  before  supper  time.  He  had  been  gone 
but  a  few  hours,  when  he  came  hurriedly  back  in 
a  great  flurry  of  excitement,  and  startled  his  mother 
with  the  intelligence  that  he  had  seen  a  strange 
person  walking  on  the  lawn,  and  had  stood  and 
watched  him  ever  so  long,  and  saw  him  go  across 
to  the  graveyard  and  pull  one  of  the  flowers  she 
said  nobody  was  to  touch,  and  how  he  was  dressed 
in  a  rich  suit  of  black  velvet  and  walked  with  a 
cane,  and  seemed  to  be  weak  and  lame,  and — well, 


WOODBOUKNE.  39 

that  was  all.  He  had  run  every  step  of  the  way  to 
let  her  know  about  it.  Who  could  the  stranger 
be? 

"Your  own  dear  uncle,  my  son,"  replied  the  good 
lady,  warmly  embracing  the  bearer  of  the  joyful 
news.  "  There,  run  and  order  the  carriage  to  be 
brought,  and  send  some  one  for  your  father."  And 
in  the  next  hour  Mr.  Alloway  and  his  wife  were 
rolling  rapidly  along  the  road  to  Woodbourne. 

To  the  desolate  wanderer  the  meeting  was  unspeak 
ably  affecting,  and  he  wept  and  sobbed  on  his 
sister's  breast  in  a  wild,  passionate  way,  which 
showed  how,  in  all  the  days  of  his  dreary  pilgrim 
age,  his  heart  was  ever  yearning  for  that  one  touch 
of  heavenly  sympathy.  Where  he  had  been,  what 
he  had  been  doing,  and  how  he  had  fared,  none 
ever  heard  the  whole  story  from  his  lips.  He  sel 
dom  referred  to  his  personal  adventures,  and  seemed 
to  regard  whatever  had  befallen  him  as  of  no  con 
sequence  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  There  was 
neither  affectation  of  indifference  nor  ill-natured 
reticence  in  this  enforced  silence;  only  the  weari 
ness  of  melancholy  dejection,  and  blank,  unfathomed 
desolation  of  heart.  Not  a  murmur  of  complaint 
nor  symptom  of  impatience  escaped  him  in  word 
or  gesture;  still,  the  bent  form,  the  tottering  gait, 
the  worn  and  weary  look,  and  wan  and  wasted 
features,  these  told  their  eloquent  tale  of  sorrow 
and  suffering,  and  showed  that  at  all  times  and  in 
all  places  the  ceaseless  horror,  "  fell  tyrant  of  the 
throbbing  breast,"  held  its  victim  bound  with  an 
iron  chain.  Every  trace  of  angry  passion  and  cyn 
ical  emotion  had  departed;  he  was  now  all  gentle- 


40  WOOD30UEXE. 

ness  and  patience  and  holy  resignation,  watching 
and  waiting  for  the  joyful  summons  which  would 
call  the  grief-burdened  soul  to  its  appointed  rest. 
Such  was  his  appearance  to  the  observant  eyes  of 
his  affectionate  sister,  when  the  first  gush  of  sup 
pressed  feeling  was  over  and  he  had  relapsed  into 
his  habitual  seriousness.  Her  womanly  intuition 
divined  the  secret  at  a  glance,  and  she  felt  a  thrill 
of  unspeakable  rapture  on  finding  that  all  was  well 
with  him  at  home.  He  had  sought  and  found  the 
Peace  which  the  world  cannot  give  nor  take  away. 
Mrs.  Alloway  came  to  see  him  every  day  for 
weeks  after  his  return,  and  found  him  always  the 
same  quiet,  uncomplaining  and  abstracted  being.  To 
her  anxious  inquiries  after  his  health,  he  invariably 
responded  that  he  slept  well,  felt  no  decided  pain, 
and  usually  ate  with  a  relish  what  was  set  before 
him.  On  one  of  these  visits  she  was  much  grati 
fied  to  observe  that  he  noticed  the  absence  of  the 
children,  and  wondered  why  they  were  never  brought 
to  se3  him;  so  far  from  being  annoyed  by  them, 
nothing  sh.3  could  devise  would  afford  him  half  so 
much  agreeable  diversion  as  their  merry  gambols  and 
innocent  prattle.  After  that  they  always  accompa 
nied  her,  and  frequently  came  by  themselves.  At 
first  they  were  considerably  awed  in  his  presence,  but 
they  were  not  long  in  finding  out  that  he  was  the 
gentlest  and  most  harmless  of  God's  creatures, 

o  * 

instead  of  the  terrible  ogre  they  had  been  led  to 
imagine  from  the  mystery  in  which  his  history 
was  enveloped.  In  a  little  while  his  grave  deport 
ment  ceased  to  impress  them;  but  what  they  lacked 
in  reverence,  they  more  than  made  up  in  fondness. 


WOODBOURlfE.  41 

And  now  the  master  was  here,  even  the  frowning 
grimaces  and  dreadful  contortions  of  old  George  the 
butler,  began  to  lose  their  former  terrors.  '-Uncle 
didn't  care,"  was  the  aggravating  reply  to  every 
protestation  of  the  enraged  majordomo;  "and  every 
thing  on  the  land  belonged  to  uncle,  himself  in 
the  bargain;  and  he  was  nothing  but  an  ngly, 
black,  Guinea  nigger,  for  all  his  consequential  airs," 
which  sally  of  juvenile  wit  never  failed  to  rout 
the  enemy,  horse,  foot  and  dragoons.  Matters  were 
even  worse  than  before  he  came  home,  and  the 
disgusted  old  servant,  himself  a  paragon  of  all  that 
was  proper  and  decorous  in  behavior,  out  of  patience 
with  such  weakness,  wishes  he  had  staid  away  alto 
gether,  since  he  was  of  no  more  account  in  his 
own -house  than  to  be  made  a  stick-horse  of  by 
"dem  audacious  chill'un  of  Miss  Jane's,"  the  men 
tion  of  whom  was  always  coupled  with  the  awful 
prognostication  that  "de  debble  was  sartin  to  git  do 
las'  one  on  'em."  The  monster!  couldn't  he  see 
that  the  boisterous  romps  and  antics  of  this  wild 
troup  of  joyous  sprites  was  worth  all  the  physic 
in  Dr.  Harrington's  saddle-bags  to  his  master,  and 
brought  the  only  ray  of  real  cheerfulness  that  ever 
illumined  that  sad  face?  And  when  they  gathered 
around  his  chair,  under  the  spreading  oak  on  the 
lawn,  to  listen  with  breathless  interest  to  the  voice 
so  unlike  any  they  had  heard  before  in  its  strangely 
plaintive  and  musical  tones,  telling  such  beautiful 
stories  of  the  far-off  lands  he  had  visited,  and  the 
wonderful  people  and  things  he  had  seen,  his 
devoted  sister  overflowed  with  thankfulness  to  find 
her  tender  ministering  was  not  unavailing,  since  it 

4* 


42  WOODBOUKNE. 

awakened  in  his  breast  transitory  gleams  of  sun 
shine  which  she  feared  would  never  revisit  that 
shady  desert. 

Shortly  after  his  uncle's  return,  Richard  was 
sent  from  home  to  try  what  efficacy  there  was  in 
a  noted  fountain  of  learning  in  an  adjoining  county. 
To  what  extent  he  partook  of  its  Pierian  waters, 
and  whether  he  derived  any  great  benefit  from 
the  same,  we  have  not  been  able  to  ascertain;  but 
from  the  fact  that  he  was  never  heard  to  brag  of 
his  attainments,  it  may  be  safely  conjectured  that 
he  was  contented  with  the  intoxicating  effect  of 
shallow  draughts,  and  left  to  older  topers  the  sober 
delights  of  potations  pottle  deep.  When  his  vaca 
tion  came,  Mr.  Austin,  who  had  manifested  much 
interest  in  the  boy,  importuned  his  father  to  let 
him  come  and  live  at  AVoodbourne.  Mr.  Alloway 
readily  consented,  and  as  Dick  was  now  grown 
almost  to  bo  a  man,  his  society  and  assistance 
became  at  once  a  eource  of  unmistakable  pleasure 
and  comfort  to  the  lonely  occupant  of  the  great 
mansion,  who,  among  other  things,  now  directed 
his  studies,  and  succeeded  in  inspiring  him  with 
a  relish  of  the  dainties  which  are  bred  in  a  book 
which  he  had  never  before  experienced.  With  the 
help  of  such  a  kind  and  affectionate  mentor,  he 
made  wonderful  progress,  and  well-nigh  atoned  for 
his  misspent  hours.  In  return,  he  gave  his  atten 
tion  to  the  affairs  of  the  plantation,  and  as  he  did 
not  interfere  with  Uncle  George's  department, 
everything  went  on  now  as  pleasantly  as  could  be 
desired  by  all  parties.  In  and  about  the  house  was 
a  perpetual  atmosphere  of  calm  serenity  and  tran- 


WOODBOURXE.  43 

qnil  repose,  now  and  then  disturbed  by  an  incur 
sion  of  the  old  butler's  uproarious  tormentors. 
Apparently,  Mr.  Eichard  Austin  was  greatly  im 
proved  in  health  and  spirits;  yet  he  never  went 
into  society,  and,  except  an  occasional  visit  to  his 
sister,  led  a  life  of  perfect  retirement  and  seclu 
sion.  His  nephew  relieved  him  of  the  irksome  cares 
of  his  estate,  and  was  the  almoner  of  his  generous 
bounty  to  the  poor,  so  thai  he  was  wholly  exon 
erated  from  worldly  concerns.  But  he  marked  how 
swiftly  the  days  were  gliding  by,  and  knew  that 
his  end  was  fast  approaching. 

One  morning  last  May,  Eichard,  who  had  been 
on  some  unusual  errand,  came  in  late  to  breakfast, 
and  was  surprised  to  find  his  uncle  had  not  yet 
made  his  appearance.  He  was  an  early  riser,  and 
it  was  his  custom,  when  dressed,  to  go  to  his  library 
and  spend  an  hour  in  study  and  devotion.  Here 
they  found  him  kneeling  beside  a  chair,  his  head 
bowed  over  his  clasped  hands,  which  rested  on  the 
Holy  Book  he  had  opened  for  the  last  time.  His 
prayer  was  answered;  the  poor  captive  was  free,  and 
the  sweet  smile  which  lingered  on  his  face,  recalling 
the  image  of  his  boyish  grace  and  beauty,  showed 
with  what  blissful  ecstacy  he  had  greeted  the  mes 
senger  of  Heaven,  and  walked  with  him  out  of  the 
dark  shadow  into  the  light  of  eternal  happiness. 
His  grave  is  the  fourth  one  you  see  there,  and 
the  fifth  is  that  of  the  old  slave  who  followed 
him  in  a  little  while,  and  was  laid  at  the  feet  of 
those  he  had  so  long  and  faithfully  served.  Such 
was  the  peaceful  close  of  a  life  which  had  been 
embittered  by  one  crushing  grief,  and  it  was  con- 


44  WOODBOURXE. 

soling  to  know  that  during  the  last  years  of  his 
earthly  sojourn  he  had  found  an  alleviation  of  his 
sorrows. 

By  his  uncle's  will,  which  was  written  before  he 
went  abroad,  and  lodged  Avith  Mr.  Copland,  the 
old  lawyer  whom  we  have  mentioned,  and  which 
was  never  afterwards  altered,  his  nephew  succeeded 
to  all  his  property,  and  as  he  left  no  debts  or 
legacies  to  be  paid,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
to  take  immediate  possession  without  legal  formali 
ties  of  any  description.  And  thus  we  find  Mr. 
Richard  Austin  Alloway,  at  the  free  age  of  one- 
arid -twenty,  lord  of  the  goodly  manor  of  Wood- 
bourne,  with  all  its  broad  acres  of  field  and  forest — 
as  fine  a  specimen  of  a  free-handed,  bold-spirited, 
bluif  and  burly  country  squire  as  could  be  found 
in  the  wide  borders  of  the  Old  Dominion;  a  noted 
fox  hunter,  to  be  sure,  and  the  proud  owner  of 
the  winner  of  the  sweepstakes  at  Mt.  Airy  race- 
field;  yet  by  no  means  the  embodiment  of  extrav 
agance,  idleness  and  dissipation,  which  he  is  rep 
resented  to  be  in  the  caricaturing  pictures  of  certain 
prejudiced  and  prudish  story  writers.  He  is  very 
popular  with  his  neighbors,  young  and  old;  enter 
tains  as  becomes  his  station  and  fortune,  and  makes 
one  in  every  party  for  pleasure  and  amusement;  but 
he  does  not,  on  any  account,  neglect  his  plantation, 
which  he  manages  without  the  aid  of  an  overseer, 
and  his  affairs  prosper  accordingly.  For  the  rest, 
it  is  evident  that  he  does  not  intend  to  remain  a 
bachelor  longer  than  he  can  help,  and  of  late  the 
frequent  apparition  of  a  stalwart  cavalier  on  a  well- 
known  sorrel  horse,  with  a  nosegay  at  his  button- 


WOODBOUKXE.  45 

hole,  and  a  countenance  expressive  of  the  extremes 
of  sheepish  bashfulness  and  reckless  indifference, 
always  going  the  self-same  way,  furnishes  an  exhaust- 
less  theme  for  gossiping  people,  who  will  persist 
in  taking  so  much  trouble  upon  themselves  about 
matters  that  don't  concern  them.  How  his  wooing 
sped  will  in  due  time  appear. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


resume    the    thread     of    our    story,    the 

f  n  J 

young    gentlemen    from    whom  we    parted 

a  moment  ago  to  take  this  short  flight 
over  the  "dark  backward  and  abysm  of 
time,"  are  now  seated  by  a  cheerful  fire  in  the 
dining-room;  for,  although  the  days  are  remarkably 
mild  for  the  season,  the  nights  are  so  cool  that 
the  warm  blaze  does  not  come  amiss  in  that  spacious 
apartment.  Dick  has  been  telling  about  his  uncle, 
and  when  he  had  finished  his  voice  was  tremulous, 
and  a  tear  was  glistening  in  his  mild,  blue  eye. 
His  friend  was  far  from  being  unmoved  by  the 
touching  story,  and  sat  for  some  time  in  deep 
meditation,  gazing  intently  at  the  fire  as  if  it  were 
a  Merlin's  Mirror,  in  which  he  expected  to  find  an 
explanation  of  all  that  is  dark  and  enigmatical  in 
human  life. 

"  Dick,"  he  at  length  said,  musingly,  "  I  hope 
you  will  not  think  me  impertinent  for  pursuing  a 
delicate  topic — your  family  secrets — but  there  is  a 
mystery  here  I  would  like  to  explore." 

Dick. — "Certainly  not,  Harry;  you  are  heartily 
welcome  to  all  the  information  I  have  to  impart; 
but,  really,  I  am  unable  to  see  what  there  is  so 

(46) 


WOODBOURNE.  47 

very  mysterious  in  my  poor  uncle's  sorrowful  his 
tory." 

Harry. — "Nothing  in  the  history,  as  far  as  it  is 
written;  but  were  you  never  curious  to  learn  what 
was  in  the  books  the  sybil  burned?  You  are  quite 
sure  he  left  no  record  of  his  travels?" 

Dick. — "Xone,  as  far  as  I  have  discovered  in 
examining  his  papers;  not  the  remotest  hint  of 
anything  that  happened  to  him  while  he  was  abroad 
is  divulged  in  his  writings,  and  all  I  know  of  the 
matter  is  what  he  told  me  at  odd  times,  when  in 
the  vein  of  talking.  The  reason  why  the  efforts  to 
find  his  retreat  proved  futile,  is  now  perfectly  obvi 
ous — he  had  changed  his  name  in  order  to  prevent 
the  possibility  of  his  being  traced.  Doubtless,  he 
imagined  that  this  self  imposed  penitence  would  be 
of  no  avail,  unless  it  was  fulfilled  with  scrupulous 
severity." 

Harry. — "Was  the  late  Mr.  Austin  a  Eoman 
Catholic?" 

Did'. — "On  the  other  hand,  he  was  ardently 
attached  to  the  Church  of  England;  why  do  you 
ask?" 

Harry. — "You  spoke  of  his  doing  penance,  which, 
as  you  know,  is  a  word  of  fearful  significance  to 
devout  Catholics — means  frightful  torturings  and 
macerations  of  the  flesh,  lacerating  integuments, 
horrible  flagellations,  peas  and  pebbles  in  one's  shoes, 
sackcloth  and  ashes,  pierced  with  cold,  tormented 
with  hunger,  parched  with  thirst,  and  ever  so  many 
other  unimaginable  and  unendurable  agonies.  Did 
he  suffer  all  or  any  of  these  things?" 

Dick. — "Of  course   I    did  not  mean    that  sort    of 


48  WOODBOURXE. 

penance.  Indeed,  I  only  used  the  word  for  want 
of  a  better.  From  the  time  that  I  came  to  know 
him  well,  he  wTas  religiously  abstemious  and  self- 
denying,  a  pattern  of  temperance  in  all  respects  • 
but  I  am  sure  he  did  not  entertain  the  fanatical 
notion,  that  the  troubles  of  the  mind  could  be 
eased  or  dispelled  by  racking  the  body  with  every 
manner  of  pain.  Whenever  the  children  came  to 
see  him,  he  would  talk  to  them  for  hours  at  a 
time,  in  a  pleasant  and  instructive  way,  of  his 
ramblings  and  observations  in  Europe,  and  his 
sketches  of  characters  and  scenes  were  often  exquis 
itely  racy  and  humorous;  especially  glowing  and 
beautiful  was  the  description  he  gave  them,  with 
almost  childish  rapture,  of  what  he  called  his 
'Happy  Valley,'  in  Switzerland,  where  he  lived  a 
whole  year  in  a  family  of  the  better  class  of  peas 
antry,  for  whom  he  formed  the  strongest  attachment. 
Our  conversation  was  usually  confined  to  literary, 
moral  and  religious  topics,  followed  by  critical 
remarks  from  him  on  his  favorite  authors.  He  was 
thoroughly  versed  in  French  and  Italian,  and  had 
wrhat  seemed  to  me  to  be  an  inordinate  passion  for 
Tasso,  from  whose  'Jerusalem  Delivered'  I  trust  to 
be  evermore  excused.  That  and  Olilton's  Paradise 
Lost'  were  the  toughest  jobs  I  ever  undertook;  but 
to  please  Uncle  Richard,  I  went  resolutely  through 
both  of  them  without  skipping  a  line." 

Harry, — "'Which  is  more  than  I  can  say.  Is 
that  all,  Dick?" 

Dick. — "Yes;  at  least  I  can  think  pf  nothing 
more  at  present." 

Harry. — "One  other  question — but  no,  I   will  not 


WOODBOURNE.  49 

trouble  you  with  that."  Then  suddenly  putting  on 
a  quizzical  mask  of  profound  gravity,  he  continued, 
quoting  from  the  quaint  old  Knight  of  Norwich: 
" '  "What  songs  the  syrens  sung,  or  what  name 

Achilles     assumed     when,     he     hid     himself     amono- 

o 

women,  though  puzzling  questions,  are  not  beyond 
all  conjecture.'  My  bay  against  your  sorrel,  Dickon, 
that  I  unmask  your  domino  the  very  first  trial. 
Your  uncle's  name- -his  assumed  one,  that  is  to 
say — was  Metcalf." 

Alloway  regarded  his  companion  with  undisguised 
amazement. 

"Why,    Harry,"    he   exclaimed,    "you   are — " 

"Doctor  Faustus  or  the  devil!"  cried  his  lively 
companion.  "Don't  be  alarmed,  old  fellow;  there 
is  not  a  grain  of  black  magic  in  it.  Strange, 
though,"  he  muttered,  as  if  talking  to  himself, 
"that  this  interesting  solitaire  should  never  have 
occurred  to  us  to  be  the  man  we  were  looking  for." 

Dick.—"  The  man  you  were  looking  for  ?  What 
in  the  name  of  common  sense  do  you  mean  by 
this  provoking  mummery  ?  " 

Harry  (still  preserving  his  serio-comic  vein). — 
"  Davus  sum  non  (Elipus;  you  can  read  the  rid 
dle  for  yourself.  Hearken  unto  the  story.  Some 
four  or  five  months  ago,  while  the  convention  was 
sitting,  there  came  to  Richmond  a  stranger,  whose 
unusual  appearance  and  mysterious  behavior  created 
no  little  stir  in  political  circles.  He  brought  let 
ters  from  Mr.  Charles  Carroll,  of  Maryland,  to  Mr. 
Peyton  Randolph  and  other  distinguished  gentle 
men,  to  whom  he  made  known  his  business,  and 
then  disappeared  ai  quietly  as  he  came.  What  was 

5 


50  WOODBOUUXE. 

the  nature  of  his  communication  has  not  yet 
exactly  transpired,  but  report  says  it  had  an  im 
portant  bearing  on  the  questions  at  issue  with 
Great  Britain.  The  general  notion  seemed  to  be 
that  lie  was  a  secret  ambassador  of  the  French 
Court.  Shortly  after  his  visit,  the  exigency  of 
public  affairs  called  my  father  to  the  temporary 
capital,  where,  meeting  with  Mr.  Randolph,  he  was 
casually  asked  by  that  gentleman  whether  he  was 
acquainted  with  a  man  in  Virginia  named  Richard 
Metcalf,  and  answering  to  a  particular  description. 
His  late  visitor,  said  he,  was  greatly  concerned  to 
discover  the  whereabouts  of  the  person  he  had 
described,  and  he  had  engaged  to  look  him  up  if 
he  could  be  found  in  the  colony.  My  father  had 
never  heard  of  such  an  individual,  but  promised 
to  aid  Mr.  Randolph  in  searching  for  him.  All 
inquiries  up  to  the  time  of  Mr.  Randolph's  sud 
den  death  were  fruitless,  and  after  that  lamentable 
event  my  father  gave  himself  no  further  concern 
about  the  matter,  until  he  received  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Carroll,  some  days  ago,  repeating  the  inquiry. 
The  stranger,  I  learned,  was  a  Catholic  priest,  the 
Abbe  Julian  Soule.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the 
name  ?  " 

Alloway  shook  his  head;  he  was  sorely  puzzled. 
<;  It  is  too  hard  a  nut  for  me  to  crack,  Harry ; 
a  Catholic  priest?  What  could  he  possibly  want 
with  Uncle  Richard  ? " 

"Yes,  a  veritable  Catholic  priest,''  repeated  his 
friend,  resuming  his  rallying  tone;  "you  could  not 
well  look  more  preposterously  horrified  if  I  had 
said  it  was  Old  Nick  himself,  in  hot  pursuit  of 


WOODBOURNE.  51 

some  poor  forsworn  wretch  who  had  managed  to 
give  him  the  slip,  having  repented  too  late  of  an 
evil  bargain  with  the  arch-enemy.  Nonsense,  Dick; 
you  know  well  enough  your  good  uncle  was  not 
a  sorcerer,  nor,  what  some  folks  think  a  great  deal 
worse,  a  papist.  I  thought  you  were  superior  to 
such  vulgar  prejudices." 

Dick. — "You  are  quite  in  the  right  for  so  think 
ing;  I  am  not  the  least  bit  prejudiced  on  that 
score.  Had  you  said  he  was  a  Jew  or  a  Turk,  it 
would  have  made  no  difference,  as  far  as  uncle 
was  concerned;  his  religious  faith  was  as  rooted  as 
that  oak  tree  out  there.  A  Catholic  priest,"  he 
slowly  repeated;  "yes,  I  remember,  in  that  thrilling 
story  he  narrated,  a  priest  figures  conspicuously,  but 
his  name  was  Father  Manso,  an  Italian;  the  other 
name,  I  am  positively  certain,  I  never  heard  before." 

Carleton. — "  Well,  I  don't  reckon  it  is  of  much 
consequence  to  you  and  me  who  his  reverence  is, 
or  what  he  is  after;  so,  letting  him  go  for  the 
present  with  a  pax  voMscum,  or  what  you  please. 
tell  me  now,  in  few  words,  what  you  think  i-> 
likely  to  be  the  be  all  and  end  all  of  this  dis 
turbance  with  England?" 

Dick. — "That  is  what  I  would  rather  you  should 
tell  me,  Harry;  you  have  been  playing  statesman 
of  late,  and  are  deep  in  the  public  counsels.  To 
my  unsophisticated  mind,  there  is  every  indication 
of  a  bloody  and  devastating  civil  war.  It  is  not 
our  fault,  to  be  sure;  we  have  had  sufficient  pro 
vocation,  in  all  conscience,  to  justify  an  appeal  to 
arms;  but  the  alternative  is  none  the  less  dreadful 
for  that  reason,  nor  will  the  righteousness  of  our 


52  WOOD3OURNE. 

cause  avert  the  miseries  which  fratricidal  strife  is 
sure  to  entail  upon  us.  The  die  is  cast;  the 
sword  only  can  decide  the  quarrel ;  resistance  to 
the  death  should  now  be  the  watchword  and  reply 
in  every  patriot's  mouth." 

Harry  (eagerly;. — "Just  what  1  expected  to  hear 
from,  your  lips;  they  belied  you,  who  said  you 
were  lukewarm  in  the  cause." 

Dick  (with  considerable  warmth). — "AVhat  right 
has  anybody  to  say  that  of  me?  Because  I  keep 
my  own  counsel,  and  don't  choose  to  go  swagger 
ing  and  ranting  about  the  country  like  a  fantas 
tical  Armido  or  blustering  Bobadil,  ravished  with 
the  music  of  my  own  valorous  tongue?  It  is 
nevertheless  true,  I  am  no  Hotspur." 

Harry. — "All  the  better  for  that;  it  is  a  name 
of  unlucky  omen — a  splendid  meteor,  vanishing  m 
darkness  and  dismay;  a  spasm  of  heedless  insur 
rection  expiring  in  a  field  of  Shrewsbury.  Cool 
heads  and  stout  hearts  are  what  we  need.  You 
are  right;  we  cannot  shut  out  the  truth  by  hold 
ing  up  our  hands  in  hopeless  deprecation.  It  is 
now  either  independence  or  abject  slavery.  There 
is  no  longer  room  for  temporizing  expedients  and 
patch-work  compromises.  There  is  but  one  course 
left  for  us,  the  ultima,  ratio;  and  that  signifies 
everlasting  liberty,  or  endless  subjugation  to  the 
American  people.  So  say  the  oldest  and  most 
cautious  heads  in  the  colony.  The  fact  is,  my 
dear  friend,''  he  proceeded  to  say,  warming  with 
the  exciting  theme,  "our  English  cousins  have 
never  had  the  slightest  idea  of  granting  our  very 
reasonable  demand.  They  steadily  look  upon  us  as 


WOODBOUENE.  £3 

a  set  of  political  Pariahs  and  Ishmaelites — aliens 
from  the  Israel  of  British  freedom,  having  no  part 
or  lot  in  the  glorious  heritage  of  Magna  Charta. 
They  have  the  monopoly  of  the  commodity  of 
price,  and  they  mean  to  keep  it  if  they  can.  Pic 
ture  these  lords  of  humankind,  as  they  modestly  call 
themselves,  with  their  proud  ports  and  defiant  eyes 
passing  in  grand  review  before  the  nations,  every 
dirty  tatterdemalion  among  them  swaggering  about 
his  birthright  of  liberty,  and  we,  miserable  outcasts 
from  the  pale  of  the  constitution,  not  permitted  to 
feed  upon  the  husks  that  are  left  by  the  swinish 
multitude.  Oh,  it  makes  my  blood  boil  to  think 
of  their  audacious  effrontery.  How  I  wish  I  had 
never  been  born  a  British  subject;  a  fig  for  the 
name!" 

This  sudden  outburst  of  indignation  was  too  much 
for  Alloway's  gravity.  Seeing  Carleton  pause  for 
breath,  he  caught  up  the  satirical  strain:  "Let  us 
have  another  manifesto  of  non-intercourse,  Harry, 
and  make  its  provisions  as  broad  and  general  as 
the  casing  air.  Henceforth  homespun  is  the  only 
wear,  'Sainte  Croix'  and  'Old  Madeira'  the  only 
tipple;  and  John  Bull  shall  not  have  our  tobacco 
at  a  guinea  a  sneeze.  That's  the  sum  tottle  o' 
the  whole  business — a  mere  matter  of  barter  .and 
exchange  with  these  voracious  sharks — a  rump  of 
pickled  blue  beef  from  the  royal  shambles  for  a 
cwt.  of  Virginia  smoked  venison;  a  cask  of  rotten 
Scotch  herrings —  " 

Harry. — "Psha!  those  are  mere  trifles  compared 
with  the  one  great  grievance-^-" 

Dick    (refusing    to  yield    the    floor). — "And   then 

5* 


54  WOODBOURXE. 

we  must  keep  on  paying  the  old  woman  over  there 
her  annuity  of  pin-money  for  sending  her  Eedcoats 
over  here  to  stir  up  the  redskins  to  mutiny  and 
rage,  and  on  no  account  forget  to  tickle  the  Pope 
of  England's  nose  with  a  tythe's  pig's  tail  for 
teaching  us  how  to  read  the  thirteenth  chapter  of 
Eomans  backwards.  Others  may  do  what  they  like, 
but,  as  for  me,  I  hereby  forever  abjure,  renounce, 
repudiate,  scorn  and  despise  the  whole  race  of  John 
Bull — not  excepting  Shakespeare  and  Spenser,  and 
Milton  and  Pope,  and  Bacon,  and  Locke  and  Xew- 
ton,  and  Boyle  and — '0,  Jemmy  Thompson,  Jemrny 
Thompson,  0 ! ' — let  me  not  forget  to  anathematize 
the  panegyrist  who  lauded  his  mighty  countrymen 
after  that  disgustingly  fulsome  fashion — 

For  every  virtue,  every  worth  renowned ; 
Sincere,   plain-hearted,  hospitable,   kind; 
Yet,  like  the  mastering  thunder,  when  provoked. 
The  dread  o!    tyrants,   and  the  sole  resource 
Of    those  who  under  grim  oppression  groan. 

You  have  not  forgotten  my  famous  "piece  of  decla 
mation,  Harry;  how  robusliously  I  used  to  mouth 
it,  to  the  admiration  of  our  dear  old  master,  rest 
his  soul !  from  '  Heavens !  what  a  goodly  prospect 
spreads  around/  to  the  awful  eidolon  of — 'Public 
zeal,  ever  musing  on  the  common  weal,  and  labor 
ing  glorious  for  some  great  design.'  Jupiter!  how 
fine  I  thought  it  was! — the  very  sublime  of  heroic 
verse,  outstripping  'Achillas  Wrath'  and  throwing 
'Arma  Virumque*  completely  in  the  shade.  Pah! 
nothing  but  downright  flummery  and  arrant  balder 
dash  from  beginning  to  end!  Oh,  the  luxury  of 
hating!  I  never  knew  what  it  was  until  now. 


WOODBOURiJE.  55 

See  how  you  liave  set  me  in  a  blaze,  you  firebrand 
of  treason." 

"Then,"'  said  Carleton,  laughing,  "I  had  better 
strike  while  the  iron  is  hot.  It  is  my  purpose 
to  go  to  work  right  away  and  raise  a  troop  of 
light  horse,  and  I  want  your  assistance  at  the 
start." 

Dick. — "You  shall  have  it,   heart  and  hand." 

Harry. — "  Seriously  ?  " 

Dick. — "As  a  Quaker  at  a  love  feast.  I  never 
jest  on  that  subject." 

Harry  (enthusiastically). — "I  am  overjoyed  to  have 
you  second  my  project  so  warmly.  We  will  about 
it  at  once.  Our  noble  chief  shall  not  have  cause 
longer  to  reproach  us  for  our  tardiness.  As  you  say, 
it  is  not  a  subject  for  idle  jest  or  vaporing.  We 
should  prepare  in  real  earnest  for  the  contest,  and 
to  fight  we  must  have  an  army." 

Dick. — "An  army?  Where  is  the  army  of  Gen 
eral  Washington  ?  " 

Harry. — "  Little  better  than  a  mob,  and  fast  melt 
ing  away,  from  all  accounts.  We  cannot  fight  British 
regulars  with  raw  militia  with  any  hope  of  success. 
You  are  a  crack  shot  and  a  capital  rider,  my  boy; 
but  to  cut  a  squirrel's  head  off  with  a  rifle  and 
jump  a  horse  over  a  worm  fence,  desirable  accom 
plishments  as  they  may  be,  are  not  everything  that 
is  required  to  make  a  soldier  of  a  man.  Disci 
pline,  subordination,  endurance,  courage,  fortitude — 
these  are  the  necessary  elements  of  an  efficient 
army.  It  must  be  taught  to  move  like  a  perfect 
machine  at  the  will  of  its  commander;  and,  fighting 
or  retreating,  marching  or  countermarching — " 


56  WOODBOURXE. 

Dick. — "Xever  mind  the  'disciplines  of  the  wars,' 
brave  captain;  Braddock's  defeat  lias  not  shaken 
my  faith  in  cold  steel  and  steady  valor.  Close  up, 
touch  elbows,  eyes  front,  march  straight  into  the 
cannon's  month,  like  an  embattled  stone  wall, 
and — 'Our  army  swore  terribly  in  Flanders,'  quoth 
my  Uncle  Toby — which  last  accomplishment  is  easily 
learned.  It  is  a  stubborn  fact,  Hal;  there  is  no 
more  dangerous  animal  alive  than  that  same  British 
Lion  when  he  shakes  his  yellow  mane  and  glowers 
and  roars  in  very  anger.  It  will  require  all  the 
strength  of  our  united  hearts  and  hands,  and  other 
help  beside,  I  am  thinking,  to  keep  our  heads  out 
of  his  ugly  mouth.  What  do  you  perpend  shall 
be  done?" 

Harry. — "Were  all  the  people  of  my  mind,  they 
would  declare  George  Washington  military  dictator, 
and  resolve  to  a  man  to  follow  him  blindfold.  As 
it  is,  I  shall  endeavor,  unfledged  stripling  as  our 
reverend  seniors  call  me,  to  do  my  full  duty — carry 
out  the  scheme  I  have  suggested,  with  your  aid, 
and  be  ready  to  take  the  field  before  the  campaign 
opens  next  spring.  We  shall  have  our  hands  full, 
without  doubt;  and,  between  us,  Dick,  matters  are 
not  as  they  should  be  at  Boston.  We  need  not 
proclaim  our  weakness  on  the  housetops.  If  we 
did,  we  were  irretrievably  ruined — an  easy  prey  for 
your  ravening  beast.  Still  the  truth  should  not  be 
concealed  from  those  whose  hearts  are  in  the  cause, 
and  who  have  the  will  and  the  power  to  remedy 
the  evil.  Washington's  confidential  letters  reveal  a 
picture  of  poltroonery,  sordid  meanness  and  flagrant 
peculation  which  would  be  incredible  if  drawn  by 


WOODBOURXE.  57 

a  less  scrupulous  pen.  He  calls  upon  the  flower 
of  the  native  chivalry,  the  real  yoemanry  of  the 
land,  to  come  to  the  rescue;  men  who  will  freely 
take  upon  themselves  the  solemn  vow  of  consecra 
tion  to  the  holy  work,  and  not  quit  the  field  until 
their  country  takes  her  equal  station  among  the 
powers  of  the  earth.  It  was  well  enough  to  adver 
tise  the  world  of  the  nature  and  extent  of  our 
grievances;  to  tell  King  George  in  good,  set  phrase 
that  we  will  not  longer  bear  the  yoke  of  vassalage 
to  the  mother  country.  Now,  silence  in  the  ranks. 
No  more  brave  words;  no  more  paper  fulminations; 
no  more  exuberant  outpourings  of  the  dulce  et  decus 
spirit  in  cataracts  of  rhetorical  bombast.  Are  we 
earnest  patriots,  who  look  upon  liberty  as  a  jewel 
above  price?  Then  let  us  take  our  stand  without 
delay  in  the-  deadly  breach,  by  the  side  of  our 
chosen  leader.  But  we  will  talk  further  of  this 
another  time.  There  is  a  ship  lying  below;  can  you 
tell  me  anything  of  her  movements — when  she  sails 
and  whither  bound?" 

Dick. — "That,  sir,  is  the  good  bark  Katrine,  from 
Glasgow,  Hamilton  &  Osborn,  owners.  She  is  here, 
I  am  told,  to  take  on  board  the  household  goods 
and  chattels,  Lares  and  Penates,  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Osborn,  one  of  the  firm,  who  has  prudently  deter 
mined  to  go  back  to  Scotland  and  stay  there  until 
the  storm  blows  over,  if  not  for  the  rest  of  his 
days.  Non-intercourse  has  already  rendered  the 
occupation  of  the  Scotch  merchants  comparatively 
worthless,  and  some  of  them  are  seeking  safer  and 
more  profitable  investments." 

Harry. — "What  of  your  neighbor,  Mr.  Graeme? 
How  is  he  affected  by  these  troubles?" 


58  WOODBOUEXE. 

Dick. — "Generally  reserved  and  circumspect;  avoids 
discussion,  and  keeps  strict  guard  over  his  temper 
when  the  behavior  of  certain  of  his  countrymen 
in  Maryland  is  denounced.  Yet  he  openly  avows  his 
abhorrence  of  Dunmore's  brutal  proclamation,  and 
declares  that  it  and  other  outrages,  that  spring-gun 
affair  particularly,  are  past  endurance.  Like  many 
others,  I  suspect  he  earnestly  deprecates  having  to 
resort  to  extreme  measures,  without  well  seeing  how 
they  can  be  honorably  avoided.  His  son  is  as  out 
spoken  a  rebel  as  Patrick  Henry,  and  had  to  be 
shipped  over  to  Scotland  to  keep  him  out  of  mis 
chief.  Eeally,  though,  it  was  done  more  to  relieve 
his  mother's  anxiety  of  mind  than  because  his 
father  disapproved  his  sentiments.  By  the  way,  Mr. 
Graeme  can  give  you  the  information  you  desire 
respecting  the  vessel.  He  was  once  a  partner  of 
Mr.  Osborn,  and,  I  believe,  still  retains  an  interest 
in  the  concern. 

Harry. — "Which  is  all  the  better  for  my  pur 
pose.  Will  you  go  with  me  to  see  him  to-morrow?" 

Dick. — "Yes,  in  the  evening;  I  have  an  engage 
ment  will  occupy  the  entire  forenoon.  A  plague 
on't!  I  wish  they  had  pitched  on  somebody  else 
for  the  disagreeable  job." 

Harry.— " What  is  it,   Dick?" 

Dick.  — "  Oh,  a  most  weighty  affair.  You  see,  my 
especial  friend  and  pitcher,  the  collector,  has  been 
ever  so  long  at  loggerheads  with  an  equally  cross- 
grained  neighbor  about  a  patch  of  alder  brake, 
which  a  fastidious  muskrat  Avouldn't  have  as  a 
gracious  gift.  There  has  been  an  interminable  suit 
in  ejectment  between  them,  and  at  last,  sick  of 


^VOODBOURXE.  59 

the  law's  delay,  and  sicker  still  of  the  fee  bills 
they  have  had  to  foot,  they,  for  a  wonder,  agreed 
to  take  it  out  of  court,  and  refer  it  to  two  disin 
terested  and  judicious  freeholders  to  decide.  Lastly, 
the  arbitrators  have  locked  horns,  and,  "worse  to 
embroil  the  fray,  have  called  me  in  as  umpire.  Do 
you  know  what  I  mean  to  do?" 

Harry. — "Halve  the   loaf  between  the  litigants?" 

Dick.— "No." 

Harry. — "Give  them  an  equal  share  apiece  of 
hard  crust,  and  decree  the  rest  in  costs?  that's 
English  for  equity." 

Dick.— "Not  a  bit  of   it." 

Harry. — "  What  then,   0,   learned  judge  ? " 

Dick. — "Why,  I  intend  to  award  the  whole  of 
it  to  the  frogs  for  a  free  commonwealth — a  new 
Atlantis,  where  they  may  croak  and  croak  from 
daylight  to  dawn  again,  with  none  to  molest  or 
make  them  afraid." 

Carleton  laughed  heartily.  "Capital,  famous,"  he 
exclaimed;  "the  two-edged  sword  of  justice  cutting 
both  ways  at  once — one  edge  lopping  off  an  ever 
lasting  casus  belli  between  two  tough  old  sticklers 
for  their  rights;  the  other  carving  out  a  perpetual 
paradise  for  the  subjects  of  King  Log.  If  you 
wield  a  sabre  with  the  same  address,  what  a  trooper 
you  will  make.  Then  you  can't  go  till  evening; 
well,  that  will  be  time  enough  for  my  business 
with  Mr.  Graeme.  I'm  sorry  his  son  is  gone  away; 
the  country  can  ill  afford  to  spare  such  as  he.  Is 
young  Graeme  their  only  child? 

Dick — "The  only  son  living;  they  had  another 
and — a  daughter,"  there  was  just  the  least 


60  WOODBOUKXE. 

tremor  of  embarrassment  in  his  voice,  and  the 
faintest  shade  of  heightened  color  suffused  his  sun 
burnt  cheek,  but  they  did  not  escape  the  quick, 
sparkling  eyes  of  his  sprightly  guest. 

"And  one  fa'ir  daughter,"  he  exclaimed;  "I  see 
it  all  now;  you  sly  old  fox,  earthed  at  last.  But 
how  is  this,  Dick;  what  have  you  done  with  your 
other  charmer  of  whom  report  tells — the  lovely 
rose  of  Clifton?  she  that  is  said  to  be  'the  shop 
of  all  the  qualities  that  man  loves  woman  for.' 
Has  the  fair  Roseline  found  a  Juliet  in  the  daisy 
of  Bonhill  ?  Why,  I  took  you  for  the  very  north 
star  of  constancy,  and,  lo!  you  are  as  fickle  as 
the  moon.  Come,  unbosom;  I  am  dying  to  hear — " 

"Get  out  with  your  nonsense,  Harry,"  replied 
the  persecuted  swain;  "it  is  time  to  go  to  bed/' 
And  without  further  ceremony  he  snatched  up  a 
candle  and  conducted  Carleton  to  his  apartment  for 
the  night. 


CHAPTER   V. 


Oil  must  amuse  yourself  here  as  best  you 
can  till  dinner-time,  Harry,"  said  his  host 
next  morning,  as  he  was  mounting  his 
horse.  "James  will  give  you  the  key  of 
the  library,  and  nothing  more  is  wanting  to  install 
you  in  full  authority  during  my  absence." 

Carleton  was  not  at  all  averse  from  being  left 
to  himself  for  some  hours  in  the  pensive  solitude 
of  the  quiet  mansion.  He  had  not  been  able  to 
close  his  eyes  immediately  on  retiring,  fatigued  as 
he  was,  for  thinking  of  its  late  occupant,  and 
weaving  all  manner  of  imaginary  adventures  out  of 
the  little  hank  of  party-colored  material,  which 
Dick's  strange  narrative  had  furnished;  and  when 
he  did  fall  asleep,  the  memory  of  that  disjointed 
story  he  had  been  listening  to  and  trying  to  put 
together  in  congruous  and  intelligible  form,  still 
lingered  and  haunted  him  in  a  tantalizing  dream, 
in  which  he  seemed  to  be  chasing  a  phantom  shape 
through  scenes  he  had  read  of,  until  they  were  as 
familiar  to  his  imagination  as  any  spot  known  to 
his  school-boy  rambles.  Now  he  saw  it  toiling 
painfully  up  some  rugged  Alpine  steep,  and  ever 
and  anon  resting  on  its  staff  and  gazing  wistfully 

6  (61) 


G2  WQOD.BOURXE. 

at  the  glittering  peak,  which  mocked  its  daring 
aim ;  then  it  appeared  to  be  gliding  like  a  shadow 
among  mouldering  ruins  and  crumbling  fanes,  or 
vanishing  in  the  cloistered  gloom  of  solemn  min 
ster  or  grim  sepulchral  vault;  then,  again,  it  is 
seen  standing  lonely  and  weird  on  the  deck  of  the 
storm-driven  vessel,  and  straining  its  wild,  yearn 
ing  eyes  over  the  dark  and  barren  waste  of  waters, 
and,  at  last,  it  returns  to  find  its  only  rest  under 
the  canopy  of  the  loving  oak,  whose  mighty  arms 
stretch  forth  and  clasp  the  wanderer  in  an  eternal 
embrace. 

On  awaking  from  his  fevered  trance — sleep  it 
could  hardly  be  called — he  found  it  impossible  to 
shake  off  the  enchantment  of  those  nightly  visions, 
and  at  breakfast  his  host  did  not  fail  to  note  the 
air  of  musing  and  absent-minded  soberness,  which 
was  so  much  at  variance  with  his  wonted  rollick- 
some  and  debonair  gaiety.  Alloway  did  not  venture 
to  ask  for  an  explanation  of  his  guest's  unusual 
pensiveness,  for  fear  of  bringing  on  another  fit  of 
teasing,  and,  with  the  ordinary  polite  commonplaces, 
left  him  to  chew  the  cud  of  whatever  fancy  had 
taken  possession  of  his  thoughts. 

After  a  short  stroll  over  the  lawn  and  through 
the  garden,  Carleton  returned  to  the  house,  and 
taking  the  key  from  the  servant,  proceeded  to  the 
library.  He  could  not  repress  a  slight  feeling  of 
awe  as  he  turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  but  it  dis 
appeared  as  soon  as  he  opened  the  door. 

The  sun,  streaming  in  at  the  windows,  bathed 
the  apartment  in  a  quivering  flood  of  mellow  radi 
ance,  and  far  from  presenting  the  gloomy  array  he 


WOODBOURNE.  63 

had  pictured,  every  object  wore  the  brightest  and 
most  cheerful  aspect.  The  heavy  Avails  and  ceiling 
paneled  in.  grained  oak,  and  glistening  with  a  new 
coat  of  varnish ;  the  solid  furniture  of  shining 
mahogany  and  black  walnut  without  speck  or  stain; 
the  well-filled  book-cases,  around  which  no  sign  of 
cobwebs  and  venerable  dust  was  clinging — these 
certainly  were  not  the  common  appurtenances  of  an 
anchorite's  devotional  retreat.  In  one  corner  of  the 
room  stood  a  large,  old-fashioned  cabinet,  or  "sec 
retary,"  profusely  embellished  with  brass  ornaments 
in  the  highest  state  of  polish,  and  opposite  to  this 
was  a  glass  case  of  imposing  dimensions,  which 
was  stored  with  an  omnium  gatherum  of  rare  curi 
osities — mineral  substances  in  endless  variety,  relics 
of  art,  objcts-de-verfu,  and  the  like — a  sight  such 
as  would  make  a  virtuoso's  heart  leap  for  joy,  and 
prove  by  no  means  uninteresting  to  tbe  man  of 
real  science.  The  ample  fireplace  was  adorned  with 
huge  brass  andirons,  on  which  the  wood  was  piled 
ready  to  be  kindled;  a  substantial  fender  of  the 
same  material  protected  the  uncarpeted  and  wax-pol 
ished  floor,  and  they,  the  andirons  and  fender,  as 
well  as  the  shovel,  poker  and  tongs,  were  burnished 
to  a  degree  of  immaculate  brilliancy  that  was  mar 
vellous  to  behold.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  was 
a  large,  round  table,  on  which  were  writing  mate 
rials,  several  books,  and  bundles  of  papers  neatly 
tied  up  and  sealed,  and  by  its  side  stood  an  ancient 
heirloom  in  the  shape  of  a  capacious  easy-chair, 
lined  with  morocco  and  padded  with  hair,  and  having 
a  contrivance  for  writing  or  resting  a  book  attached 
to  one  of  its  arms.  The  mantlepiece  was  decorated 


G4  WOODBOURXE. 

with  a  pair  of  massive  silver-plated  candelabra,  t\vo 
handsome-figured  porcelain  vases,  and  various  speci 
mens  of  Wedgewood's  ornamental  wares,  and  in  a 
niche  above  it  was  a  terra-cotta  bust,  which  passed 
current,  on  what  authority  is  not  stated,  for  a  speak 
ing  likeness  of  the  renowned  founder  of  Jamestown 
colony;  one  or  two  bronze  statuettes,  on  bracket?, 
of  famous  mythological  characters,  a  few  select  pic 
tures  of  English  hunting  and  pastoral  scenes,  a 
dozen  chairs  of  sundry  patterns,  a  commodious  sofa, 
and  an  inviting  settee,  or  kind  of  lounge;  these, 
with  the  books  on  the  shelves,  the  map  on  the 
wall,  the  dove-colored  window  curtains  and  one  large 
portrait,  complete  our  tame  description  of  this  fairer 
dwelling  of  heavenly  pensive  contemplation  than  the 
awful  monastic  cell  to  which  she  has  been  ruth 
lessly  consigned  by  Pope  and  Parnell's  melancholy 
muse.  The  deeply-recessed  windows  looked  out  on 
a  wildering  maze  of  shrubs  and  flowers,  whose  glories 
had  fled  the  approach  of  winter,  and  at  no  great 
distance  in  the  background  towered,  in  regal  pomp 
of  purple  and  gqld,  the  majestic  forest,  which  was 
Woodbourne's  envied  ornament  and  pride.  Through 
the  latter  a  wide  and  deep  ravine,  making  a  natural 
vista,  afforded  a  tantalizing  glimpse  of  the  lovely 
prospect  beyond,  bounded  by  the  dark-blue  line  of 
the  Potomac,  and  the  softer  azure-hued  "silent  hills 
and  more  than  silent  skies'"'  of  Maryland.  Within, 
every  object  was  bright  and  alluring,  and  without 
it  was  so  dreamy  and  still  it  seemed  as  if  all  the 
world,  like  the  cat  demurely  dozing  on  the  garden 
fence,  had  gone  to  sleep  under  the  drowsy  influ 
ence  of  the  delicious  November  haze— 


WOODBOU&HS.  65 

Whose  vapory  folds  o'er  the  landscape  strays 
And  half  involves  the  woodland  maze, 

Like  an  early  widow's  veil, 
Where   dimpling  tissues  from  the  gaze, 
The   form  half  hides  and  half  betrays, 

Of    beauty  wan  and  pale. 

Whatever  of  agony  and  torturing  care  the  self- 
exiled  wanderer  may  have  suffered  elsewhere,  or 
what  the  pangs,  if  any,  he  endured  in  secret  at 
home,  assuredly  they  could  not  be  laid  to  the  charge 
of  the  tutelary  genius  of  this  delightsome  abode. 
Such  was  Carleton's  internal  conviction  as  he  took 
in  the  whole  charming  scene  at  a  glance,  before 
pausing  to  inspect  the  portrait  which  confronted 
him.  It  was  that  of  a  rosy-cheeked,  fair-haired  boy 
of  sixteen  summers,  surprisingly  beautiful  and.  radi 
ant  with  the  "purple  light  of  love  and  bloom  of 
young  desire."  Looking  on  that  exquisite  picture, 
how  vividly  came  rushing  into  his  memory  the 
mournful  numbers  of  that  psalm  of  life  he  knew  by 
heart,  and  there  was  an  unsuspected  pathos  and 
depth  of  feeling  in  his  voice  as  he  repeated  aloud, 
the  lines, 

Yet  see  how   all  around  them   waif, 

The  ministers   of  human  fate, 

And  black  misfortune's  baleful  train ! 

Could  that  handsome  cavalier,  proud,  self-reliant, 
panoplied  in  complete  armor  for  the  fray  in  the 
times  which  tried  men's  souls,  have  had  a  premo 
nition  of  the  evil  days  to  come  ?  Had  the  unseen 
hand  of  the  wizard  pushed  aside  the  mystical  cur 
tain  for  a  moment,  and  revealed  to  his  gaze  the 
maimed  and  broken  wreck  of  a  noble  form,  racked 

G* 


CO  WOODBOUKNE. 

upon  a  bed  of  suffering,  on  a  lonely  island,  and 
dying  far  from  wife,  and  children,  and  friends,  and 
sacred  home?  He  turned  away  with  a  sigh,,  and 
\valked  to  the  book-case.  Having  diverted  himself 
there  for  awhile  with  turning  over  the  leaves  of 
one  or  two  books,  and  discovered  that  he  was  in 
no  humor  for  reading,  he  at  last  fell  to  contem 
plating  the  old  secretary  in  the  corner,  and  sur 
mising  what  it  might  have  hid  away  in  its  num 
berless  receptacles.  There  was  no  telling  how  old 
it  was;  it  had  the  unmistakable  impress  of  hoar 
antiquity;  had  witnessed,  no  doubt,  the  passing 
away  of  several  generations,  and  consequently  pos 
sessed  the  irresistible  attractions  which  surround  the 
proverbial  tomb  of  secrets  in  every  old  house.  It 
should  be  remarked,  however,  that  we  Virginia 
people  have  a  queer  delusion  on  the  subject  of  anti- 
quarianism,  and  are  in  the  habit  of  speaking  inva 
riably  of  the  Old  Dominion,  of  colonial  memory,  in 
that  venerating  way  which  seems  to  imply  an 
antediluvian  existence,  and  of  our  blessed  great 
grandams  as  if  they  flourished  at  a  period  when 
"Pharaoh's  mother's  mother's  mummy"  was  a  crispy- 
headed  marvel  of  toddling  babyhood. 

To  resume,  our  young  friend  was  in  the  best 
possible  frame  of  mind  to  indulge  a  roving,  listless 
curiosity,  and  he  felt  himself  drawn  towards  the 
mysterious  object  in  the  corner  by  an  invisible 
power.  He  could  not  forbear  smiling  at  the  eager 
ness  with  which  he  found  himself  approaching  it. 
How  ridiculous,  he  thought,  the  idea  of  expecting 
to  discover  anything  here  which  would  throw  a  ray 
of  light  on  the  subject  of  his  idle  cogitations.  Of 


WOODBOURNE.  67 

course,  every  hole  and  cranny  had  been  probed  and 
peered  into  a  hundred  times  over.  Still  he  could 
not  divest  himself  of  a  certain  vague,  undefined 
sensation  that  he  was  treading  on  the  verge  of  u 
wonderful  revelation — due  in  a  great  measure  to  the 
reflection  he  was  then  making,  that  Dick  had  only 
examined  his  uncle's  papers  in  a  careless,  perfunc 
tory  manner,  withotit  reference  to  any  particular 
inquiry,  and,  therefore,  had  probably  overlooked  or 
forgotten  many  things  which  he  might  consider 
extremely  significant  in  clearing  up  the  mystery 
concerning  the  late  Mr.  Austin  and  the  Catholic 
priest.  The  first  drawer  he  opened  contained  naught 
but  a  pile  of  uninviting  rubbish,  newspapers,  pam 
phlets,  loose  sheets  of  paper  torn  from  old  ledgers, 
mingled  in  a  confused  mass,  which  showed  the  little 
value  in  which  they  were  held,  and  the  many  times 
they  had  been  rummaged  over;  so  with  the  second 
and  the  third,  which,  in  addition  to  the  trumpery 
we  have  mentioned,  were  filled  with  an  endless 
assortment  of  disabled  household  utensils.  The 
fourth  drawer  was  more  attractive  in  appearance, 
though  it,  too,  promised  very  little  towards  reward 
ing  the  painful  researches  of  a  curiosity  hunter, 
presenting,  as  it  did,  one  sea  of  letters  upon  letters, 
some  of  them  tied  up  in  packages,  whilst  others 
lying  open  were  fastened  together  in  piles  by  a 
thread,  as  if  arranged  for  easy  reference.  They  bore 
the  address  of  Mr.  John  Austin,  and  embraced  the 
greater  portion  of  his  voluminous  correspondence 
with  distinguished  men  of  his  day,  on  topics  of 
public  interest — matter,  perchance,  valuable  to  the 
future  historian  of  the  colony,  but  wholly  uncon- 


68  WOODBOURNE. 

cerned  with  the  fortunes  of  the  recluse.  There  was 
a  MS.  among  them,  which  proved  to  be  an  unfin 
ished  memoir  and  biographical  sketch  of  his  father, 
on  which  Mr.  Richard  Austin  was  employed  at  the 
time  of  his  death.  Having  given  this  a  hurried 
perusal,  and  entertained  himself  for  some  time  with 
skimming  over  old  letters,  in  which  politics,  the 
price  of  tobacco  and  negroes,  religious  squabbles, 
Indian  depredations,  Braddock's  expedition,  and  other 
matters  relating  to  the  welfare  of  the  colony  before 
he  was  born,  were  mixed  in  an  inextricable  melange, 
Carleton  was  about  to  close  the  drawer,  when  a 
familiar  hand-writing  on  the  back  of  one  of  the 
bundles  of  letters  he  had  not  disturbed  arrested  his 
attention.  It  was  from  his  father,  who  had  once 
been  Mr.  John  Austin's  colleague  in  the  House  of 
Burgesses.  He  untied  the  package,  and  examined 
the  contents.  The  letters  were  all  from  the  same 
source,  and  of  the  same  general  purport — consult 
ing  and  comparing  opinions  on  legislative  matters. 
All  but  one,  which  appeared  to  be  strangely  out 
of  place  in  that  company,  intruded  there  evidently 
through  inadvertence.  These  documents  had  been 
carefully  inspected  by  the  author  of  the  MS.,  .as 
was  shown  by  the  copious  extracts  of  them  he  had 
made.  The  interloping  epistle  was  addressed  to 
Richard  Austin,  Esquire,  Gent.;  N—  —  Store, 

"W County,  Virginia,    As  Carleton  stood  holding 

the  letter  in  his  hand,  and  looking  wonderingly  at 
the  strange  superscription,  he  again  felt  the  sensa 
tion  of  mysterious  awe  creeping  over  him. 

"  Psha ! "   said    he,    striving   to   throw   off  the  spell 
with  a  contemptuous  shrug;  "what  childish  folly  is 


WOODBOUIIXE.  69 

this!  One  would  think  I  was  in  the  very  act  of 
unrolling  the  dread  scroll  of  fate,  and  reading  what 
it  had  in  store  for  me,  when,  in  fact,  I  am  only 
halloing  my  idle  fancy  on  a  wild-goose  chase.  There 
is  nothing  in  Mr.  Eichard  Austin's  melancholy  his 
tory  can  affect  my  career  in  life.  Yet,  how  do  I 
know  that?  Who  can  foretell  the  influence  which 
one  man's  lightest  act  or  word  may  have  on  the 
fortunes  of  others?  Is  not  each  of  us  a  link  in 
the  chain  of  inscrutable  destiny?  But  a  truce  to 
moralizing;  let's  see  what  is  here."  He  opened  the 
letter,  and  read  as  follows: 

LONDOX,  Feb.  12,  o.s.,   1775. 
MY  DEAR  SIR  : 

Yours,  under  date  of  jSTovember  IGth,  1774,  came  to 
hand  only  a  fortnight  ago,  the  vessel  having  been  delayed 
on  the  voyage  over  by  stress  of  weather.  Agreeable  to 
your  wishes,  I  lost  no  time  in  calling  upoii  Sir  William 
Markham,  M.P.,  at  his  lodgings  in  this  city.  Our  inter 
view  was  of  the  most  pleasant  and  satisfactory  charac 
ter.  Waiving  preliminaries,  I  showed  him  your  letter, 
remarking  that  it  would  best  explain  the  nature  of  my 
business.  He  perused  it  with  grave  interest,  and,  as 
I  thought,  suppressed  emotion.  After  which  he  said, 
"Please  do  me  the  kindness  to  say  to  Mr.  Austin,  that  I 
duly  received  his  communication,  ar>d  that  my  failure  to 
acknowledge  it  involves  a  tedious  and  painful  explana 
tion,  which  shall  be  made  as  soon  as  I  can  command 
sufficient  leisure."  He  then  told  me  of  a  visit  he  had 
from  a  Catholic  priest,  who  was  apparently  interested 
about  the  same  subject,  and  vhom  he  had  treated  very 
cavalierly,  to  say  the  least,  not  having  deigned  even  to 
ask  his  name.  Was  that  person  in  Mr.  Austin's  confi 
dence?  IE  so,  where  could  lie  be  found?  I  replied  that 
I  had  never  heard  you  speak  of  such  a  person  in  con- 


70  AVOODBOURNE. 

necticm  with  him,  ami  that  I  would  advise  you  of  the 
circumstance  ia  my  answer  to  your  letter.  With  that 
our  conference  ended. 

The  master  of  the  Speedwell  lias  just  called  to  inform 
me  that  his  vessel  will  drop  down  on  the  next  tide, 
and  to  know  if  I  wish  to  send  anything  on  board.  As 
I  have  several  little  commissions  to  dispatch,  I  must 
bring  this  letter  to  a  close.  Please  tell  Mr.  Copland 
that  his  matter  received  prompt  attention;  I  sent  remit 
tance  to  him  last  week  in  exchange  on  Amsterdam,  for 
fear  of  accidents.  I  yet  hope  and  believe  we  will  arrive 
at  a  good  understanding  with  the  colonies.  Let  me 
hear  from  you  by  the  first  opportunity.  Communication 
with  America  is  becoming  more  and  more  uncertain 
every  day.  Did  you  get  the  books  shipped  per  packet 
Rover  7  I  am  pleased  to  hear  that  your  health  continues 
to  improve.  With  best  wishes,  I  remain, 

Fa'thfully,   your  friend  and  obedient  sen-ant, 

JAMES  BUCHANAN. 

"February  12th,  1775,"  repeated  Carleton,  looking 
back  at  the  date  of  the  letter;  "received  April  6th, 
and  answered  on  the  15th  of  the  same  month.  Mr. 
Austin  died  shortly  after;  and  so  ends  the  chapter. 
How  provoking.  It  is  plain  that  Dick  has  not  seen 
this  letter.  The  priest  again.  Can  he  be  the  same 
Julian  Soule?  I  have  a  mind  to  write  to  Mr. 
Carroll."  The  sound  of  hurried  footsteps  in  the 
hall  interrupted  the  train  of  his  thoughts,  and  he 
barely  had  time  to  thrust  the  letter  in  his  bosom 
before  Alloway  came  bursting  into  the  room. 

"  Halloo,  old  fellow,"  he  exclaimed,  in  his  hearty 
way,  as  his  eye  fell  on  the  open  drawer  of  the 
secretary;  "what  the.  deuce  are  you  up  to  there? 
Could  •  you  find  nothing  better  to  console  you  for 


WOODBOURNE.  71 

my  absence  than  is  to  be  got  by  gnawing  at  the 
mouldy  bare  bones  in  that  lumber  chest?  Come, 
I  am  sure  you  need  something  to  wash  your  throat 
and  help  your  digestion  after  such  a  musty  repast. 
You  see  I  am  back  sooner  than  I  promised,"  he 
rattled  on,  while  Carleton  was  re-arranging  the  con 
tents  of  the  drawer.  "  One  of  the  referees  was  sick, 
and  the  case  had  to  be  laid  over.  I  would  have 
been  here  an  hour  ago,  if  I  had  not  chanced  to 
fall  in  with  Bob  Temple  on  the  road.  He  is  always 
brimful  of  news,  and  is  a  kind  of  good-natured, 
gossiping  burr  that  one  finds  hard  to  shake  off. 
To  tell  the  truth,  I  relish  a  little  of  Bob  once  in 
a  while,  taken  fresh,  but  he  gets  to  be  consumedly 
boring  on  too  long  and  too  frequent  acquaintance. 
Still,  there  is  no  great  harm  in  the  prattling  jay 
bird  of  a  creature.  He  had  been  to  Clifton,  he 
said,  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  foreign  gentleman 
from  France,  who  is  Colonel  Littleton's  guest.  'For 
eign  gentleman,'  said  I;  'do  you  mean  the  fellow 
who  bolted  into  our  chase  yesterday,  and  out  again, 
like  a  clap  of  thunder?'  'The  very  same,'  replied 
Bob.  'You  see,  one  of  the  colonel's  hands  was  down 
at  my  house  betimes  this  morning  for  a  load  of 
oysters,  and  he  told  me  as  how  his  master  and 
young  mistress  were  just,  the  day  before  yesterday, 
come  home  from  Maryland,  and  brought  with  them 
a  mighty  nice  gentleman,  they  called  Mr.  Conrad — a 
beau  Miss  Mary  had  caught  somewhere  over  the 
river.  So  I  thought  it  was  the  civil  thing  to  do 
for  me  to  ride  up  and  call  on  the  distinguished 
stranger,  for  between  us,  not  to  go  any  farther, 
there  is  no  manner  of  doubt  about  it,  he  is  a  count 


72  WOODBOURXE. 

or  marquis,  or  something  of  the  sort,  as  sure  as  a 
gun's  iron.'  '  Marquis,  fiddlesticks ! '  said  I ;  '  more 
likely  a  runagate  of  a  dancing  master,  or  abscond 
ing  vatit-de-cliambre.  Did  you  see  him?'  'No,'  said 
he, '  he  was  gone  to  ride  with  Miss  Littleton.  I 
sat  some  time  waiting  for  them  to  return,  when 
who  should  walk  in  but  my  especial  aversion,  old 
Jake  Thompson' — he  gave  Bob  his  title  of  Daily 
Postman — 'he  was  come  for  his  usual  dish  of  pol 
itics  with  the  colonel,  and  they  were  soon  at  it 
tooth  and  nail,  talking,  and  swearing,  and  gesticu 
lating  like  mad.  That  sort  of  fuming  and  raving 
did  not  suit  me,  so  I  left  my  compliments  for  the 
marquis,  and  promised  to  call  again.'  Marquis, 
quotha!  and  this  philandering  Monsieur  Magnifico 
is  Miss  Littleton's  latest  conquest.  A  second  Portia 
is  my  fair  cousin,  and  this  another  Colchos  strand 
for  many  Jasons,"  and  Dick  closed  the  library 
door  with  a  bang,  and  led  the  way  to  the  dining- 
room  in  the  loftiest  imaginable  state  of  scornful 
incredulity.  Carleton  was  too  busily  occupied  with 
his  own  thoughts  to  pay  attention  to  this  disdainful 
ebullition.  When  they  had  finished  their  toddy,  and 
were  seated  together  on  the  porch,  he  adroitly  turned 
the  conversation  into  the  channel  in  which  he 
wished  it  to  flow. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


T  had  not  escaped  his  guest's  keen  obser 
vation  that  Mr.  Richard  Alloway  Avas 
more  deeply  agitated  than  he  cared  to 
acknowledge  by  that  incident  concerning 
the  Catholic  priest.  Evidently,  it  had  not  before 
occurred  to  him  that  there  was  aught  of  especial 
interest  in  his  uncle's  lonely  career  to  anybody  but 
his  own  family  and  small  circle  of  friends.  His 
emotion,  on  hearing  Carleton's  story,  was  that  of 
undisguised  wonder  at  a  most  unexpected  revelation. 
The  fact  that  a  stranger,  whose  name  he  did  not 
remember  to  have  ever  heard  from  Mr.  Austin's 
lips,  was  so  much  interested  to  find  him  out,  was 
well  calculated  to  excite  in  a  less  sensitive  mind 
than  Dick's  something  more  serious  than  a  transi 
tory  feeling  of  curiosity.  Duly  respecting  the  ten 
der  and  affectionate  reverence  with  which  his  friend 
invested  the  memory  of  his  uncle,  Carleton  observed 
the  utmost  delicacy  in  approaching  the  subject. 

"What  a  charming  library  you  have,  Dick,"  said 
he;  "nothing  of  the  awful  or  mysterious  to  be  seen 
there." 

"It  is  the  brightest  spot  about  the  house,"  replied 
Dick;  "everything  is  just  as  uncle  left  it,  except 

7  (73) 


74  •VVOODBOURNE. 

the  portrait,  which  took  the  place  of  one  of  my 
grandfather  I  pointed  out  to  you  in  the  hall. 
He  had  the  room  repaired  and  newly  painted  last 
spring  shortly  before  his  death.  He  was  very  par 
tial  to  it,  and  spent  a  third  of  his  time  there  in 
the  old  arm-chair  beside  the  table." 

Harry. — "How   did   he   occupy   himself?" 

Dick. — "Usually  in  reading  and  meditation  ;  lat 
terly  he  wrote  a  good  deal,  being  interested  in 
preparing  memoirs  of  his  father  and  other  eminent 
men  of  that  day.  You  may  have  seen  the  MS. 
among  those  old  papers?" 

Harry. — "I  read  portions  of  it;  he  has  paid  my 
father  the  compliment  of  quoting  extensively  from 
his  letters  to  Mr.  John  Austin.  He  was  alone,  I 
imagine,  the  greater  part  of  the  time." 

Dick. — "Yes;  frequently  during  the  day  and  always 
at  night  until  his  regular  hour  for  retiring,  he  had 
the  room  entirely  to  himself.  It  was  his  custom 
of  a  morning  and  evening,  when  the  weather  was 
good,  to  walk  awhile  in  the  garden  and  look  after 
the  flowers,  of  which  he  was  very  fond,  and  now 
and  then  he  would  have  his  chair  brought  out  in 
the  shade  of  the  oak  tree  on  the  lawn;  still,  with 
Prospero,  he  might  truthfully  say,  his  library  was 
his  dukedom." 

Harry. — "And  you  are  positively  certain  he  left 
nothing  in  the  way  of  writings  except  the  unfin 
ished  memoirs  ?  " 

Dick. — "That  is  certainly  my  firm  belief." 

Harry. — "You  have,  then,  made  a  thorough  search 
among  his  papers?" 

Dick. — "His  papers?    Why    he    left    nothing    but 


WOODBOURNE.  73 

what  you  saw.  Most  of  that  rubbish  in  the  old 
secretary  was  a  legacy  from  my  grandfather;  I  have 
never  had  the  least  inclination,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
leisure,  to  overhaul  it.  As  for  the  unfinished  mem 
oirs,  pendunt  opera  interrnpta,  and  so  they  are  likely 
to  remain  for  this  generation,  if  they  look  to  me 
for  completion.  But  why  are  you  so  inquisitive, 
Harry  ?  did  you  find  a  mare's  nest  in  that  ancient 
heirloom  ?  By  Jove !  old  fellow — "  It  should  be 
remarked  in  this  place,  par  parenthese,  that  Mr. 
Richard  Alloway  had  a  habit  of  frequently  appeal 
ing,  in  a  familiar  manner,  to  the  great  Olympian 
Thunderer,  whether  as  a  meaningless  expletive 
merely,  or  a  convenient  rhetorical  safety-valve,  or  as 
his  peculiar  way  of  making  known  his  veneration 
of  the  ancient  classics,  we  cannot  undertake  to  say. 
"By  Jove!  old  fellow,  I  verily  believe  you  are  a 
regular  professor  of  black  magic.  That  look,  now, 
<  angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us ! '  Do 
they  teach  necromancy  in  your  famous  Wittenberg 
in  New  Jersey?" 

Carleton  laughed,  and  putting  off  the  mask  of 
simulated  awe  he  had  Avaggishly  assumed,  "  Don't 
be  alarmed,  Dick,"  said  he;  "I  am  not  trying  to 
work  upon  your  superstitious  fears.  My  questioning 
was  only  intended  to  make  certain  whether  you 
had  ever  seen  this  letter." 

Alloway  took  it  from  his  hand,  and  seeing  to 
whom  it  was  addressed,  became,  on  an  instant,  very 
grave  and  thoughtful.  When  he  had  perused  it 
twice  over,  he  fell  into  a  profound  reverie,  and 
began  whistling  in  a  low  undertone — a  sign,-  as  his 
friend  well  knew,  that  he  was  perplexed  to  an 


70 

extraordinary  degree.  Carleton,  too,  dropped  into  a 
brown  study.  To  his  susceptible  imagination,  the 
letter  revealed  a  fascinating  scene  of  wild  and 
startling  conjecture.  It  was  like  a  voice  from  the 
grave  of  the  buried  past,  whose  weird,  unearthly 
tone  vibrated  on  his  heart,  and  called  up  a  throng 
of  fantastic  and  shadowy  images.  The  torturing  illu 
sions  of  his  last  night's  dream  faded  into  nothing 
ness  before  the  consciousness  of  some  unknown  life- 
mystery  Avhich  lay  hidden,  as  he  conceived,  under 
the  ivy  green  an  arrow's  flight  from  where  he  sat, 
pondering  on  the  strange  words  he  had  read. 

"  You  observed  the  allusion  there  to  the  priest, 
Dick,"  he  at  length  said,  musingly;  "he  is  the 
veritable  deus  ex  machina  of  our  mystery.  Of  course 
it  can  be  no  other  than  the  Abbe  Julian  Soule." 

"Like  enough,"  replied  Dick;  "but  it  was  not  of 
him  I  was  thinking.  Markham,  Markham — why, 
that  was  the  name  of  the  unfortunate  hero  of 
uncle's  pathetic  little  romance;  and,  what  is  like 
wise  remarkable,  the  other  prominent  character,  a 
lady,  was  called  Conrad;  it  is  an  Italian  story  of 
cruelty  and  revenge." 

Harry.— "Do  tell  it  to  me,   Dick." 

Dick. — "No,  no;  I  would  not  like  to  mar  it  by 
a  hap-hazard  recital;  besides,  it  is  too  long  to 
remember.  I  have  it  written  down  in  my  common 
place  book  just  as  uncle  narrated  it,  and  another  time 
yon  may  read  it  for  yourself.  Let  me  see;  where 
was  it  that  I  saw  mention  of  Sir  "William  Markham? 
Oh,  I  remember  now;  in  looking  over  a  batch  of 
old  English  newspapers  on  the  top  of  one  of  those 
book-cases  in  the  library.  It  occurs  in  an  account 


WOODBOUKMTE.  77 

of  the  proceedings  in  Parliament;  he  is  reported  to 
have  made  a  strong  speech  in  defence  of  the  people 
of  Massachusetts.  The  passage  was  marked  with  a 
pencil,  but  I  did  not  see  anything  specially  note 
worthy  in  it." 

Harry. — "And  nothing  further  has  been  heard 
from  Mr.  Buchanan?" 

Dick. — "0,  yes;  I  have  had  one  letter  from  uncle's 
factor;  I'll  show  it  to  you,  it  is  such  a  perfect 
model  of  commercial  neatness  and  brevity."  He 
went  in,  and  soon  came  back  with  an  open  letter, 
which  he  handed  Carleton,  who  read  it  as  follows: 

CHEAPSIDE,  LONDON,  12th  Aug.,  1775, 
ESTEEMED  SIR: 

Inclosed  please  find  account  of  iny  late  correspondent, 
Mr.  Richard  Austin  (whose  sole  devisee  and  legatee  J 
am  advised  you  are),  stated  to  date  of  his  demise,  show 
ing  balance  to  his  credit  of  £967,  8s.  G]d.,  which  is 
subject  to  your  instructions. 

Begging  you  to  accept  the  assurance  of  my  sincere 
condolence  in  your  recent  sad  bereavement,  I  subscribe 
myself. 

Most  respectfully,   your  obedient  humble  servant, 

JAMES  BUCHANAN,  Merchant, 
For  MB.  RICII'D  A.  ALLOWAY. 

"Neat  as  a  copper  plate,  and,  doubtless,  very  cor 
rect;  but  not  a  syllable  about  the  baronet  and  the 
priest,"  said  Carleton. 

"And  pray,"  said  Dick,  "why  should  Mr.  Bu 
chanan  suppose  that  I  felt  any  interest  in  these 
distinguished  persons  ?  " 

Harry. — "Nothing  was  more    reasonable  than    for 


78  WOODBOURXE. 

him  to  infer  that  Mr.  Richard  Austin's  favorite 
nephew  shared  his  intimate  confidence,  and  ought, 
therefore,  to  be  informed  of  whatever  pertained  to  his 
private  and  peculiar  transactions." 

Dick. — "Then,  I  am  glad  he  did  not  take  your 
very  reasonable  view  of  the  case.  It  is  my  opinion 
that  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by  boggling  after 
this  plaguey  will-o'-wisp  of  a  mystery,  as  you  call 
it,  which,  if  found  out,  would  be  of  as  little  concern 
to  you  and  me  as  what  is  this  moment  coming  to 
pass  at  the  Antipodes,''  with  which  conclusive 
remark,  Alloway  folded  up  the  merchant's  letters 
and  put  them  in  his  pocket. 

Carleton  was  not  a  little  puzzled  by  his  friend's 
nonchalance.  He  could  not  exactly  divine  what 
was  the  nature  of  the  sensations  which  had  been 
awakened  in  the  young  planter's  mind  by  the  dis 
closures  he  had  made.  Was  it  real  or  feigned,  his 
repugnance  to  pursuing  the  investigation?  Yet,  his 
behavior  was  in  keeping  with  his  general  character. 
His  nature  was  too  earnest  and  matter-of-fact;  his 
temper  too  hopeful  and  elastic  to  suffer  him  to 
brood  over  the  past,  or  vex  his  soul  with  chasing 
the  fleeting  phantom  of  a  heated  imagination.  He 
was  never  at  a  loss  for  active,  wholesome  employ 
ment  for  mind  and  body,  and  his  "  bosom's  lord 
sat  lightly  on  its  throne,"  now  that  he  was  assured 
by  the  eacredest  of  human  vows  of  the  joy  which  is 
immeasurably  above  and  beyond  all  other  earthly  ben- 
isons,  the  immediate  jewel  of  the  soul,  requited  love. 

"It  is  a  tough  case,"  s:ich  was  Carleton's  inter 
nal  reflection;  "but  I  am  not  yet  disposed  to  give 
it  up.  I  was  always  expert  in  unravelling  tangled 
skeins,  and  see  if  I  don't  yet  succeed  in  running 


WOODlfOUKNE.  79 

this  thread  off  on  a  reel.  The  first  thing  to  do 
is  to  ascertain  what  the  Abbe  wants  with  Mr. 
Eichard  Metcalf,  otherwise,  Austin.  That  my  father 
can  do  when  he  replies  to  Mr.  Carroll's  letter. 
But  it  occurs  to  me  that  Monsieur  Conrad  may  be 
able  to  give  us  some  information  on  the  subject; 
at  least,  he  can  tell  us  who  the  Abbe  is.  He  came 
hither  from  Maryland  in  Miss  Littleton's  train,  and 
her  sister  is  a  near  neighbor  to  the  Carrolls',  where 
the  priest  is  sojourning.  Being  fellow-countrymen 
and  strangers  in  a  strange  land,  they  must  be  known 
to  each  other.  Dick,"  said  he,  suddenly  arousing 
his  friend  from  the  pleasant  doze  into  which  he 
had  fallen,  "suppose  we  call  upon  the  Frenchman 
in  the  morning?" 

"You  must  excuse  me,  Harry,"  said  Dick  hastily; 
"to-morrow  I  shall  be  busy  at  home;  besides,  I 
want  you  to  ride  with  me  over  the  farm.  I  flatter 
myself  that  I  have  made  sundry  improvements  of 
late,  the  hint  of  which  I  got  from  my  neighbor, 
Mr.  Graeme.  Speaking  of  him,  I  am  reminded  that 
I  have  a  note  of  invitation  for  you  to  a  party  at 
Bonhill;  here  it  is." 

"A  party?"  exclaimed  Carleton;  "that  is  lucky. 
I  shall  have  a  chance  to  see  all  my  friends  in  a 
lump.  'Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Graeme  will  be  pleased 
to  see  Mr.  Carleton  at  Bonhill  on  Friday  night, 
instant,  on  the  occasion  of  their  daughter's  birth 
day  party.'  What  a  beautiful  hand — good  sign,  says 
my  Lord  Chesterfield,  of  a  graceful  person  and  an 
amiable  disposition.  Come,  old  boy,  wake  up,  and 
tell  me  all  about  the  Graemes.'' 

But  we  will  save  Mr.  Alloway  tli3  trouble  of 
complying  with  that  modest  request. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


APPILY  blended  in  mutual  love  and  esteem 
had  been  the  lives  of  John  and  Ellen 
Graeme  from  the  day  they  plighted  troth 
to  each  other  under  the  rowan-tree,  on 
the  banks  of  Leven  "Water,  to  the  date  of  the 
present  memoirs.  Goldenly  bright  had  the  hours 
flown  over  their  heads;  their  house  was  the  garner 
of  the  choicest  gifts  of  fortune,  and  the  neighbors, 
one  and  all,  came  to  regard  them  as  an  example 
of  matrimonial  felicity,  which  the  most  inveterate 
celibate  must  envy  and  applaud. 

But  now  again  the  heavens  are  hung  with  black, 
and  the  future  looks  dark  and  ominous  of  approach 
ing  ills.  True,  the  entire  country  is  involved  in  a 
common  trouble,  the  same  perils  menace  all  alike; 
but  none  of  her  neighbors  had  with  her  experi 
enced  the  actual  calamities  of  civil  war,  and  the 
prospect  of  another  sanguinary  struggle  between 
'kinsmen  and  former  friends  calls  up,  with  all  the 
dread  accompaniments  of  horror  and  alarm,  the 
woeful  tragedy  in  which  she  had  borne  more  than 
her  equal  portion  of  sorrow  and  suffering.  To  others 
it  is  as  yet  the  vague  apprehension  of  unknown 
and  indefinable  ills;  to  her  it  is  the  present  reali- 

(80) 


WOODBOUEXE.  81 

z.ition  of  the  acme  of  human  misery,  the  sum  of  all 
the  wretchedness  that  the  worst  passions  of  the  vilest 
men  can  invoke  upon  their  sinful  race;  ever  the 
self-same  demon  of  wrath  and  desolation,  red  with 
the  stains  of  all  the  righteous  blood  shed  upon  the 
earth,  whether  welling  slow,  drop  by  drop,  from  th.3 
breast  of  the  first  victim  of  murderous  rage,  or 
poured  forth  in  crimson  torrents — 

When  merciless  ambition  or  mad  zeal 

Has  led  two  hosts  of  dupes  to  battlefield, 

That,  blind,  they  there  may  dig  each  others  graves, 

And  call  the   sad  work,   Glory  ! 

Husband  and  wife  had  kept,  with  religious  fidelity, 
the  vow  they  had  made  to  each  other  long  years 
ago,  and  never  a  word  had  passed  the  lips  of  either 
on  the  one  forbidden  topic.  But  Mr.  Graeme  can 
not  help  perceiving  the  change  which  has  come 
over  his  wife's  spirits,  and  he  intuitively  divines 
the  secret  cause  of  her  trouble.  He  sees  that  a 
great  dread  is  constantly  hanging  over  her,  threat 
ening  to  fall  with  crushing  weight.  Again  busy 
memory  is  at  work,  reviving  the  agonies  which  are 
past,  and  filling  her  soul  with  wretched  forebodings 
of  worst  to  come;  again — 

The  field  of  the   slain  rushes  red  on  her  sight, 

And  the  clans   of  Culloden  are   scattered  in  flight ! 

9 

Every  day  she  grew  more  and  more  nervous  and 
disquieted,  and  her  husband's  anxiety  increased  in 
proportion.  Yet  she  firmly  held  by  their  mutual 
pledge,  and  he  was  waiting  for  her  to  release  him. 
So  it  Avent  on,  until  one  night  Mr.  Graeme  was 
greatly  startled  to  hear  her  gobbing  violently  in 


82  AV00DBOURNT. 

her  sleep,  and  repeating,  in  piteous  accents,  the 
names  of  her  father,  brother  and  son.  Next  morn 
ing  the  seal  of  the  covenant  was  broken.  She 
unbosomed  her  soul  to  her  husband,  and  earnestly 
besought  him  to  send  George  away  to  Scotland 
until  they  saw  how  these  unhappy  troubles  were 
likely  to  end.  The  request  was  an  agreeable  sur 
prise  to  the  worthy  gentleman.  He  had  a  project 
in  reference  to  his  son's  future  career  in  life,  which 
he  had  forborne  te  mention  since  the  lad's  return 
from  Williamsburg  some  months  agone,  for  fear  it 
would  not  meet  his  mother's  approval  in  the  then 
agitated  state  of  her  mind,  as  it  required  for  its 
accomplishment  a  separation  from  George  of  several 
years. 

Although  Mr.  John  Graeme  was  never  heard  to 
set  up  a  pretence  of  being  a  very  profound  scholar, 
he  was  by  no  means  so  unlearned  as  to  be  an 
object  of  pity  on  a  rainy  day.  In  all  the  branches 
of  practical  and  useful  information,  he  was  far  in 
advance  of  the  most  polished  and  polite  of  his  neigh 
bors.  It  had  been  his  particular  pride  to  keep 
abreast  with  the  scientific  improvements  of  the  age; 
he  was  familiarly  acquainted  with  the  latest  inven 
tions  of  mechanical  skill,  and  had  been  instru 
mental  in  introducing  some  of  them  to  the  commu 
nity  in  which  lie  resided.  When  he  abandoned  mer 
cantile  pursuits,  he  transferred  to  his  new  avocation 
of  farming  his  entire  stock  of  method,  energy  and 
sagacity,  and  his  example  had  imparted  a  fresh 
impulse  to  agricultural  development,  which  was 
especially  evidenced  in  the  inroads  which  the  culti 
vation  of  the  cereals  was  beginning  to  make  on 


•WOODBOURNE.  83 

the  growth  of  the  great  commercial  staple  of  the 
colony.  He  was  a  noble  instance  of  genuine,  sturdy 
independence.  He  bought  nothing  abroad  which 
could  be  as  well  made  at  home.  No  appliances 
were  wanting  in  his  administration  to  make  the 
business  of  farming  at  once  easy,  economical  and 
remunerative.  He  had  constructed,  on  his  plan 
tation,  a  smithy  and  a  large  shop,  where  carpen 
ter,  wheel  right  and  cooper's  work  was  done,  and 
where  many  of  the  implements  and  utensils  of  hus 
bandry  were  made  out  and  out  from  the  most 
approved  models.  Then  there  was  the  "ship-yard," 
at  which  all  manner  of  small  boats  and  larger 
river  craft  were  built  and  repaired;  but  the  splendid 
"double  mills,"  in  the  ownership  of  Which  his 
neighbor,  Colonel  Littleton,  claimed  a  half  interest, 
were  the  pride  and  delight  of  the  whole  country 
side,  turning  out  flour  which  rivalled  in  quality 
the  famous  Mount  Vcrnon  brand,  with  its  unim 
peachable  inscription,  "  G.  Washington ! "  The  par 
aphernalia  of  his  peculiar  sanctum,  the  room  in 
which  he  entertained  his  particular  cronies,  displayed 
the  ruling  characteristics  of  his  mind;  every  article 
of  furniture  having  been  manufactured  on  the  spot, 
from  the  plentiful  supply  of  material  of  maple, 
oak,  cherry,  walnut  and  pine,  stored  up  in  the 
commodious  warehouse  of  the  neighboring  forest. 
In  short,  albeit  Mr.  John  Graeme  was  theoretically 
an  avowed  advocate  of  free  trade  and  sailors'  rights 
in  the  broadest  sense,  he  was  in  practice  as  per 
fect  an  illustration  of  home-brewed,  home-loving, 
and  home-protecting  industry  and  frugality  as  one 
rarely  meets  with  now-a-days. 


84  WOODBOUPNE. 

George's  fortune  was  already  made,  as  far  as 
worldly  goods  were  concerned;  he  should,  so  his 
father  thought,  learn  to  devote  his  leisure  and 
means  to  the  prosecution  of  such  useful  aims  and 
purposes  as  here  found  abundant  scope  for  active 
exemplification.  As  a  preparation  for  this  field  of 
usefulness,  it  was  designed  that  the  young  gentle 
man  should  perfect  his  theoretical  studies  in  phys 
ical  science  at  the  University  of  Glasgow,  after 
which  he  was  to  visit  and  inspect  its  more  recent 
discoveries,  as  exhibited  in  the  various  factories  and 
workshops  of  Europe. 

But  whilst  Mr.  Graeme  was  no  doubt  mainly 
solicitous  to  see  his  son  embarked  on  his  magnifi 
cent  voyag3  of  scientific  exploration,  there  was 
another  motive,  we  have  good  reason  to  suspect, 
for  his  acceding  so  promptly  to  his  wife's  request. 
Master  George  was  a  remarkably  susceptible  youth, 
as  the  phrase  is,  and,  more  is  the  pity,  had  fallen 
madly  in  love  with  a  lady  who  did  not  see  fit  to 
return  his  inordinate  attachment.  The  consequence 
was,  that  he  had  grown,  of  late,  very  miserable 
and  melancholy,  and  his  father  reasonably  concluded 
that  the  best  remedy  for  the  disease  of  unrequited 
love  was  to  be  found  in  "change  o'  fowk  and 
change  o'  scene.''  Secretly,  the  old  gentleman  ,  was 
himself  considerably  cut  up  by  his  son's  lamentable 
misadventure  in  the  mart  of  matrimonial  speculation. 
He  was  an  extravagant  admirer  of  Miss  Mary  Lit 
tleton,  and  had  George's  suit  prospered,  he  would 
have  hailed  the  event  with  beaming  satisfaction. 
As  it  Avas,  he  did  not  altogether  despair  of  its 
being  a  match  one  of  these  days.  George  was 


AVOODBOURXE.  85 

hardly  better  than  a  grown-up  boy;  his  education 
for  the  stern  pursuits  of  life  was  just  begun,  and 
nobody  could  foresee  the  difference  which  a  few 
years  might  make  in  those  qualities  which  attract 
a  woman's  wayward  fancy.  While  the  fair  maid  of 
Clifton  remained  mistress  of  her  inclinations,  there 
Avas  ground  for  the  hope  that  she  might  be  per 
suaded  to  look  at  the  proposition  in  a  more  favora 
ble  light.  So  argued  paterfamilias  on  the  general 
theory  of  probabilities.  B*ut  we  shall  presently  see 
that  the  capricious  divinity,  who  regulates  these  little 
matters,  had  decreed  that  his  sanguine  calculations 
should  be  cruelly  disappointed. 

For  the  reasons  we  have  detailed,  Mr.  Graeme 
consented  with  alacrity  to  his  wife's  entreaties,  and 
George  sailed  in  the  next  outward-bound  vessel  for 
Glasgow.  There  let  us  leave  him  for  the  present,  to 
quench  the  flame  of  his  ill-starred  passion,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  temper  the  ardor  of  his  patriotic 
soul  by  contact  with  the  discreet  and  calculating 
burghers  of  that  aspiring  and  eminently  loyal  me 
tropolis.  "When  he  was  gone,  and  had  written  to 
tell  them  of  his  safe  arrival  in  Scotland,  and  of 
the  pleasant  reception  he  had  met  with  among  his 
father's  friends  and  relatives  there,  his  mother 
appeared  to  be  greatly  relieved,  regained  much  of 
her  old  cheerfulness,  and  went  about  her  house 
hold  duties  with  the  diligence  and  grace  which 
were  the  ruling  traits  of  her  disposition.  Thus  des 
perately  she  clung  to  the  faint  hope  of  a  happy 
issue  out  of  this  last  great  affliction,  and  watched 
with  wistful  eyes  and  palpitating  heart  every  sign 
and  portent  of  the  political  heavens.  But  the  clouds 


86  WOODBOURNE. 

continued .  to  gather  thick  and  fast,  and  every  day 
the  palpable  darkness  was  increasing;  now  the  air 
was  filled  with  the  sulphury  vapor  of  war;  the 
Involution  was  begun  in  earnest,  and  Mrs.  Graeme's 
faith  in  the  emblematical  evening  sky  was  shaken 
as  a  reed.  The  hour  was  fast  approaching;  she  felt 
it  was  close  at  hand  when  the  irrevocable  decision 
must  be  made,  and  while  she  prayed  the  more  fer 
vently  that  she  might  yet  be  spared  the  dreadful 
ordeal,  her  heart  indignantly  spurned  the  base  sug 
gestion  that  her  darling  son  would  prove  a  recreant 
to  the  cause  of  his  native  land.  Now  that  she  saw 
the  fearful  alternative  could  not  be  much  longer 
avoided,  she  sought  to  divert  her  mind  from  the 
contemplation  of  the  painful  scene  by  constant  em 
ployment.  In  vain  her  husband  protested  that  she 
was  over-exerting  herself;  she  only  smiled  at  his 
remonstrances,  and  said  he  was  mistaken;  the  work 
was  good  for  her.  Thus  she  continued  to  pay  the 
most  assiduous  attention  to  every  demand  of  duty 
until  an  untoward  accident  compelled  her  desist. 

There  had  been  a  sort  of  epidemic  prevailing  in 
the  neighborhood  during  the  month  of  August  of 
this  year — a  virulent  type  of  fever — of  which  the 
medical  faculty  were  at  loss  for  an  explanation.  The 
distemper  was  said  to  be  contagious,  and  every  pre 
caution  was  taken  to  prevent  its  spreading.  Bonhill 
did  not  escape  its  ravages;  half  of  the  servants 
were  taken  down  with  it,  and  the  other  half  were 
stupefied  with  terror,  waiting  for  their  time  to  come. 
Amid  this  scene  of  suffering  and  dismay  there  moved 
a  ministering  spirit  with  the  balm  of  solacing  joy 
und  healing  on  its  wings.  It  was  the  lovely  mis- 


WOODBOURXE.  87 

tress  of  the  manor,  fulfilling  her  mission  with  that 
serene,  unshrinking  heroism,  which  shames  the  high 
est  courage  of  man.  The  plague  abated,  and,  thanks 
to  her  unwearied  exertions,  there  was  not  a  single 
death  from  its  effects  on  the  plantation. 

By  a  miracle  of  mercy  the  good  matron  escaped 
its  fangs,  but  the  fatigue  and  exposure  she  had 
undergone  in  nursing  the  sick  so  impaired  her 
health  and  weakened  her  constitution,  that  her  phy 
sician  peremptorily  commanded  her  to  refrain  from 
her  accustomed  labors.  Thus,  reluctantly  constrained, 
she  sought  the  needful  refreshment  of  rest,  and  sur 
rendered  the  sceptre  for  a  time  into  her  daughter's 
hand.  And,  her  father's  word  for  it,  that  young 
lady  wiqlded  it  in  queenly  style. 

Where  is  the  woman  that  does  not  exult  to  exer 
cise  authority, — in  her  rightful  sphere,  of  course? 
It  was  amusing  to  see  the  old  gentleman,  who  was 
used  to  nothing  short  of  unquestioned  obedience, 
watching  the  little  woman  as  she  bustled  about  the 
house,  issuing  her  commands,  and  showing  her  love 
of  sway  in  a  thousand  nameless  ways.  Especially 
did  he  note  the  delight  it  gave  her  to  move  all  the 
portable  property  in  that  inner  shrine  of  his  at  least 
once  a  day  without  the  slightest  provocation,  merely 
to  intimate  that  her  will  was  the  supreme  law  of 
the  establishment.  He  offered  not  a  word  of  remon 
strance  or  complaint  against  such  outrageous  display 
of  arbitrary  power;  indeed  he  rather  encouraged  her 
to  play  the  imperial  role  on  the  grandest  scale. 
The  day  would  come  when  she  would  have  a  little 
domestic  kingdom  of  her  own,  and  it  was  high  time 
she  was  learning  how  to  govern  it.  Like  other  vice- 


88  WOODBOUKXE. 

royal  personages,  she  was  frequently  a  trifle  more 
exacting  and  unnecessarily  fussy  than  there  was  any 
occasion  for;  and  she  never  failed  to  resent  the 
least  hint  that  she  was  in  any  wise  departing  from 
the  established  rules  of  the  legitimate  sovereign. 
"Ole  Missis  didn't  do  dat  way"  was  an  affront  not 
to  be  tolerated,  even  from  Aunt  Dinah,  a  venerable 
domestic  oracle  whom  her  mother  often  deigned  to 
consult.  Miss  Lucy  was  not  content  with  sporting 
the  tawdry  trappings  of  place;  her  maxim  was, 
Aut  Ccesar,  aut  nullus ;  she  would  be  the  real 
fountain  of  dignity  and  power,  or  else  not  wear  the 
purple  robe  at  all.  Errors  and  blunders  she  might 
commit  at  first;  but  better  these  than  irresolution, 
weakness  and  vacillation.  First  establish  your  throne 
was  what  she  said  to  herself;  impress  your  subjects 
with  becoming  deference  and  respect  of  your  au 
thority;  learn  to  command;  the  minor  details  of 
administration  are  easily  learned  by  observation  and 
practice.  This  was  her  code,  and,  to  our  thinking, 
Machievilli  nor  Oxensteirn  could  liave  expressed  it 
with  more  sententious  and  discerning  perspicacity. 
The  neighbors  were  wont  to  say  of  Lucy  that 
she  wras  her  father's  own  dear  child.  In  certain 
prominent  traits  of  character,  as  well  as  in  personal 
appearance,  there  was  a  striking  likeness  between 
father  and  daughter.  The  same  sunshiny  and  mirth 
ful  disposition;  the  same  self-reliance  and  firmness, 
blended  with  gentleness  and  forbearance  towards 
others;  the  same  large-hearted  and  spontaneous  be 
nevolence;  the  same  shrewd  and  penetrating  common 
sense  and  even  placidity  of  temper;  the  same  in 
stinctive  abhorrence  of  ill-natured  carping  and  evil- 


\VOODBOUKNE.  89 

speaking — in  a  word,  every  quality  for  which  the 
one  was  noted  found  its  counterpart  in.  the  other. 
If  not  the  bonniest,  she  was  the  most  irresistibly 
charming  and  winsome  of  lassies.  Her  figure  was 
slight,  though  far  from  being  fragile,  and  her 
every  movement  was  the  perfection  of  unconstrained 
grace.  Her  complexion  was  a  rich  combination  of 
unrivalled  tints;  her  temples  were  literally  crowned 
with  a  golden  diadem  of  sunny  locks;  her  eyes, 
the  color  of  the  cloudless  sky,  beamed  with  playful 
mirth  and  mischief,  and  her  smile  was  a  foretaste 
of  the  joys  of  heaven.  She  had  her  mother's  rare 
gift  of  music,  and  her  voice  was  melody  itself. 
True,  the  harpsichord  was  the  only  instrument  she 
had  ever  learned  to  play  on,  and  singing  simple 
ballads  and  hymns  was  the  extent  of  her  vocal 
attainments,  but  in  these  her  execution  was  unri-. 
vailed,  and  she  was  justly  regarded  as  a  musical 
prodigy  in  all  the  region  around  and  about. 

Her  sweetest  songs  were  those  of  her  father's 
native  land.  She  had  the  whole  of  Allan  Ramsay 'a 
collection  by  heart,  and  she  learned  them  not  merely 
for  the  sake  of  gratifying  Mr,  Graeme's  clannish 
devotion  to  the  customs  and  associations  of  Scotland, 
but  because  there  was  an  indescribable  charm  to 
her  in  the  language  itself,  which  rendered  it  go  far 
superior  to  her  mother  tongue  in  expressing  the 
tenderest  and  most  exquisite  touches  of  sentiment, 
humor  and  pathos.  In  this  way,  too,  she  acquired 
so  great  familiarity  with  the  dialect  and  current 
literature  of  Scotland,  that  between  her  mother  and 
herself,  her  father  was  never  at  a  loss  for  a  pleasant 
companion  in  his  rambles  whenever  he  felt  inclined, 

8* 


90  WOODBOUItNE. 

as  he  often  did,  "to  gae  daunering  like  a  gliaist 
amang  the  sweet  and  mournfu'  memories  o'  lang 
syne." 

And  when  the  morning  and  evening  air  was 
vocal  with  her  delicious  warblings,  he  was  never 
heard  to  lament  that  there  were  no  linties  in  the 
Bonhill  woods.  Thus  joyous  and  loving,  tender  and 
true,  surrounded  by  all  holy  influences,  enshrined 
in  her  happy  home  like  a  pearl  in  its  shell,  grew 
into  the  perfect  form  of  modest  maidenhood,  this 
"so  fair  a  thing,  so  free  from  mortal  taint." 

To-morroAV  come  and  gone,  Miss  Lucy  Graeme 
will  have  reached  her  eighteenth  birthday.  The  joy 
ful  event  is  to  be  celebrated  with  appropriate  fes 
tivities — with  music,  dancing  and  feasting,  amid  the 
happy  congratulations  of  her  numerous  young  friends 
and  admirers.  The  invitations  have  gone  out  through 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  neighborhood,  and 
there  is  sure  to  be  a  goodly  gathering  of  the  beauty 
and  chivalry  of  the  Old  Dominion  under  Mr. 
Graeme's  hospitable  roof-tree.  In  those  days  a  wed 
ding  was  the  especial  grand  occasion  for  the  dis 
play  of  cheerful  hilarity  and  festive  munificence; 
but  then,  as  now,  and  as  it  ever  will  and  ought 
to  be,  young  folks  would  be  young  folks,  and  they 
were  not  slow  in  finding  or  inventing  pretexts  for 
frolic,  fun  and  glee,  as  outlets  and  safety-valves  for 
the  effervescing  spirits  of  abounding  gaiety  and 
light-hearted  mirth. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


I  HE  friends  have  returned  from  their  visit 
to  Bonhill.  A  fire  has  been  kindled  in 
the  library,  and  there  -we  now  find  them. 
The  visitor  fs  reclining  negligently  on  the 
sofa,  loosely  arrayed  in  dressing  gown  and  slippers, 
garterless  stockings  and  open  shirt  collar,  and  enjoy 
ing,  to  the  utmost  degree,  the  luxurious  ease  with 
out  troubling  his  head  about  the  dignity  of  the 
position.  He  looks  dreamily  up  at  the  ceiling,  and 
runs  his  fingers  through  his  hair  in  a  ruminating 
way.  In  striking  contrast  to  this  picture  of  musing 
indolence,  mine  host  is  sitting  bolt-upright  in  a 
straight-back  chair,  with  a  resigned  and  martyr-like 
aspect,  presenting  a  complacent  exhibition  of  the 
loftiest  qualities  of  heroism  and  fortitude  under  the 
most  trying  circumstances.  He  is  gazing  fixedly  at 
the  rugged  bust  over  the  mantle-piece,  and  is  obvi 
ously  rehearsing  in  imagination  the  part  of  the 
redoubtable  warrior  in  the  famous  scene  where  the 
murderous  club  is  hovering  over  his  devoted  head, 
and  he,  wholly  in  the  dark  concerning  the  humane 
intentions  of  the  lovely  Pocahontas,  swears  a  soldierly 
prayer  or  two  preparatory  to  taking  final  leave  of 
his  senses. 

(91) 


92  WOODBOURNE. 

Carleton  (loquilei}. — "Dick,"  said  he,  "I  am  de 
lighted  with  your  Scotch  neighbor;  was  never  more 
agreeably  entertained  than  I  have  been  this  even 
ing,  saving  your  delectable  company." 

"Ah,  indeed,"  was  the  reply;  "I  am  heartily  glad 
you  were  so  much  pleased  with  your  visit.  It  is 
a  pity,  though,  we  did  not  stay  to  supper.  Such 
ambrosial  porridge,  such  nectareous  usquebagh,  and, 

0  Apicius!  what  a  hantle  o'   gude  eating  there    is 
about  a  swine!" 

Harry. — "Don't  be  a  fool,  Dick.  I  hope  you  have 
not  repeated  that  contemptible  saying  of  Dr.  John 
son  at  my  expense.  The  ioke  would  have  been 
sorry  enough  in  the  mouth  of  a  clown;  coming 
from  a  grave  moralist,  it  was  simply  disgusting." 

Dick  (paying  no  regard  to  the  energetic  dis 
claimer). — "I  say,  Harry,  what  a  deal  of  humor 
there  is  in  those  lines  of  Churchill.  You  remem 
ber?  The  "Prophecy  of  Famine." 

Two  boys  whose  .birth,  beyond  all  question,   springs 
From  great  and  glorious,  though  forgotten  kings, 
Shepherds  of  Scottish  lineage — 

1  forget  the    rest,  but    it    was    intensely  witty  and 
droll — the  part  about  Sawny    and    Jockey,  and  the 
Highland    lass    who    scratched    her    lover    into  rest 
and  sank  pleased  and  hungry  on  his  breast." 

Harry. — "Stuff  and  nonsense.  Churchill  was  a 
coarse,  vulgar  calumniator — just  what  Hogarth 
painted  him — a  Leer-drinking  bear  in  a  dirty,  black 
gown." 

Dick  (still  impassably  severe  of  mein). — "Of  course 
you  undertook  to  enlighten  the  benighted  Jockey 


•\VOODBOURNE.  93 

on  politics  and  got  a  taunt  of  one  that  makes 
better  fritters  of  English  than  Parson  Hugh  in  the 
play,  '  Hont,  tout,  lad ;  dinna  fash  yer  noddle  wi' 
sic  and  orra  deal  o'  fusionless  whigmaleries,  it's 
fient  a  bit  else  but  an  auld  toot  on  a  neAV  horn, 
yer  'screed  o'  independence  and  a'  that.  What  ken 
ye  noo  o'  the  steam  engine?" 

'•Admirably  mimicked,  Dick,"  cried  Carleton,  clap 
ping  his  hands  with  delight  and  laughing  heartily. 
"What  a  genius  you  have  for  the  languages.  But 
amor  vincit  omnia,  to  win  the  daughter  you  would 
learn  to  gabble  all  the  barbarous  dialects  that  were 
ever  grunted  or  squeaked  since  the  building  of 
Babel.  Is  Miss  Lucy  like  her  father?" 

"  The  young  lady,"  replied  the  imperturable  Eich- 
ard,  who  all  this  while  had  not  taken  his  eyes 
from  the  effigy  of  the  Jamestown  hero,  "is  reputed 
to  possess  the  combined  excellent  qualities  of  both 
her  parents.  In  personal  appearance,  she  is  strik 
ingly  like  her  father." 

Harry. — "  Then,  sir,  I  give  you  fair  warning ;  look 
to  your  girth  and  stirrups,  I  am  coming  at  you 
full  tilt." 

"I  accept  the  gage,  most  peerless  mirror  of  knight 
hood,"  retorted  Dick,  "and  will  contest  the  prize 
in  accordance  with  the  ancient  laws  and  usages  of 
our  illustrious  and  never-to-be  too  highly  extolled 
order." 

"  Gallantly  spoken,  renowned  Cid,  Amadis  de  Gaul, 
Guy  of  Warwick,  or — " 

"Captain  John  Smith,"  exclaimed  Dick,  with 
emphatic  gusto;  "he  is  my  beau-ideal  of  chivalry; 
worth  an  army  of  your  huge  iron-clad,  spine-cleavers 


94  WOODBOURNE. 

of  romance.     Where    would    we    be    now    if    it    had 
not  been   for  him  ? " 

Harry. — "A  shrewd  question,  truly,  Sir  Knight; 
in  my  opinion,  we  might  have  been  in  a  much 
worse  place.  But  as  Horatio  says  in  the  play,  that 
were  to  inquire  too  curiously.  I  agree  with  you;  the 
Smiths  are  an  ancient,  honorable  and  powerful  clan, 
and  our  John  Smith,  of  glorious  memory,  was  the 
greatest  son  of  Vulcan  that  ever  forged  a  horse 
shoe  or  a  thunderbolt.  If  he  had  only  rounded 
the  period  by  marrying  the  dusky  maiden  he  Avould 
have  been  the  bright,  particular  star  of  chivalry, 
totus,  teresatque  rotundus!  By  the  beard  of  the 
immortal  Cid  Hamete  Ben  Engeli,  he  should  have 
married  her  had  she  been  a  common  scullery  wench, 
and  her  complexion  the  'shadowed  livery  of  the 
burnished  sun,'  instead  of  being  what  she  really 
was — a  royal  model  of  innocent  simplicity  and  untu 
tored  loveliness, — copper-colored,  to  be  sure,  setl  ne 
nimium  crede  colori!  Honor  bright,  don't  you  con 
sider  that  to  be  a  black  spot  on  the  otherwise 
untarnished  escutcheon  of  the  paragon  of  Smiths?" 

Dick. — "I  don't  view  it  in  that  light.  Suppose 
he  did  not  love  the  girl?" 

Harry. — "Answered  like  the  silly,  sighing  Strephon 
you  are.  What  had  love  to  do  with  it,  simpleton? 
It  was  a  question  of  sheer  gratitude;  and,  more 
Latin  for  you,  the  poet  tells  us,  ingratum  si  dix- 
cris,  omnia  dices!  It  was  most  reprehensible  con 
duct  in  Captain  John  Smith,  say  what  you  please; 
and  history  will  set  a  cross  mark  against  it  in 
spite  of  the  brilliant  renown  of  his  warlike  deeds." 

Dick. — "  He   wasn't    near    so    much    to    blame    as 


WOODBOURNE.  95 

Avas  the  pious  founder  of  the  Roman  colony  in  his 
treatment  of  Madam  Dido;  and  isn't  he  cracked  up 
by  Virgil  and  the  rest  as  a  marvellous  proper 
man?" 

Harry. — "It  is  not  a  parallel  case,  my  boy,  by 
any  means.  ^Eneas'  work  had  been  allotted  him  by 
inexorable  fate,  and  espousing  the  pretty  Dido  was 
not  included  in  the  programme.  He  was  like  Ulysses 
dallying  at  the  Calypso  isle  while  Ithaca  was  yet 
afar.  With  Captain  John  Smith  it  was  entirely  dif 
ferent.  There  was  nothing  to  prevent  his  taking  a 
wife  at  the  time;  and  to  my  mind,  there  was  poetic 
fitness  in  his  offering  his  hand  to  the  generous 
woman  who  had  saved  his  life,  and  who,  laying 
aside  the  prejudice  of  caste,  was  worthy  to  mate 
with  a  hero;  but  he  did  not  do  it,  and  the  romance 
was  sadly  marred." 

Dick. — "For  that  matter,  there  Avas  ever  so  thrill 
ing  a  tragedy  spoiled  on  that  memorable  occasion. 
If.  as  you  surmise,  this  lovely  Ariadne  of  the  west 
ern  wilds  was  so  frantically  enamored  of  our  hero, 
why  in  the  name  of  Melpomene  did  she  not  jump 
in  the  river  and  drown  herself,  when  she  saw  it 
was  a  hopeless  case?" 

The  sprightly  cavalier  was  nonplussed  by  this 
unexpected  turn  of  the  subject. 

"I  cry  quits,  Dick,"  said  he.  "And  now,  sir, 
explain,  where  were  your  manners  that  you  did  not 
introduce  me  to  the  Bonhill  beauty  this  evening?" 

"That's  the  crow  you  have  to  pick  with  me,  is 
it?"  replied  Dick.  "A  pretty  question,  indeed.  I 
might  as  well  ask,  where  was  your  gallantry  that 
you  did  not  pay  due  homage  to  the  lady  in  ques- 


96  WOODBOURNE. 

tion?  You  told  me  your  business  with  Mr.  Graeme 
would  not  take  up  a  minute's  time,  and  there 
you  were  closeted  together,  like  a  couple  of  sage 
privy  councillors,  for  two  mortal  hours.  After  the 
interview,  you  sent  me  word  that  you  were  ready 
to  go,  and  I  obeyed  your  wishes.  You  did  not 
once  mention  the  lady's  name." 

Harry. — "All  right,  old  fellow;  the  fact  is,  I 
preferred  making  my  first  bow  en  grand  temie 
to-morrow  night,  and  as  I  found  Mr.  Graeme  to  be 
most  excellent  company — "  ("And  his  wine  did  not 
smack  of  creosote,"  interjected  Dick.)  "And  you 
were  not  at  all  averse  from  having  Miss  Lucy  all 
to  yourself  in  the  garden,  there  is — '' 

Dicl\ — "Nothing  more  to  be  said  on  the  subject." 

Harry. — "No — yes,  Dick;  about  this  Frenchman, 
now,  I  am  consumedly  puzzled — " 

Dick.— "So  am  I." 

Harry. — "How  so?" 

Dick. — "Just  to  know  what  the  pesky,  outlandish 
jack-a-dandy  is  to  you,  that  you  should  be  taking 
so  much  trouble  on  yourself  about  him  and  his 
affairs." 

Harry. — "Exactly  what  your  good  Scotch  neigh 
bor  remarked,  booby,  only  he  was  not  so  emphat 
ically  polite  in  his  manner  of  putting  the  question." 

Dick.— "Mr.  Graeme?  what  the  deuce  does  he 
know  about  the  Frenchman?" 

Harry. — "Nothing,  further  than  that  he  is  the 
guest  of  Col.  Littleton,  who  picked  him  up  in 
Maryland  when  he  went  to  fetch  his  daughter  home. 
Still,  there  was  no  call  that  I  could  see  for  the 
remark  he  made — that  he  did  not  deem  it  incum- 


WOOD30URXE.  97 

bent  on  him  to  be  'speering  after  ilka  sorner  in 
the  hale  country  side.'  The  topic  was  evidently 
distasteful,  and  he  dismissed  it  with  little  ceremony. 
What  possible  grudge  can  he  have  against  this  Mr. 
Conrad  ?  " 

Dick. — "Mr.  Graeme  is  the  last  man  in  the  world 
to  form  unfavorable  opinions  of  people  without  just- 
cause.  I'll  be  bound  he  has  a  good  reason  for  his 
apparent  incivility.'' 

Harry. — "There's  the  rub— that  same  'good  rea 
son';  but  no\v  I  think  of  it,  let's  have  that  little 
romance  you  spoke  of;  I'm  just  in  the  mood  for 
listening." 

Dick. — "The  mischief  you  are;  well,  anything  to 
keep  your  everlasting  tongue  quiet  for  a  brief  space." 

So  saying,  he  went  to  the  table,  and  unlocking 
a  drawer,  produced  a  folio  as  large  as  a  merchant's 
ledger;  then  having  drawn  the  table  nearer  the 
lire,  placed  on  it  the  light  from  the  mantlepiece, 
and  opened  the  book  at  the  proper  page. 

"  There,  voracious  quidnunc,"  said  he,  "  the  feast 
is  prepared;  come  and  satisfy  your  curious  soul." 

"Thanks,  my  very  kind  host,"  retorted  Carleton; 
"  I  much  prefer  getting  satisfaction  through  the 
medium  of  my  ears,  first  and  foremost,  because  I 
am  not  inclined  to  change  my  pleasant  berth;  and, 
secondly,  and  chiefly,  because  it  would  take  away 
the  relish  from  the  repast  for  me  to  have  to  spell 
my  way  through  such  'a  d — d  cramped  piece  of 
penmanship,'  so  take  your  seat  and  begin,  there's 
a  good  boy." 

"A  plague  on  his  impudence,''  muttered  Alloway, 
mechanically  dropping  into  the  chair.  "Call  that  a 


98 


WOODBOUIiNE. 


bad  hand;  why,  I  can  read  it  like  a  book/'  With 
which  boastful  assertion,  he  snuffed  the  candles, 
cleared  his  throat,  and  launched  ore  rotundo  into 
"My  uncle's  story." 


CHAPTER   IX. 


the  Autumn  of  17 — ,"  said  uncle,  "I  set 
out  from  Geneva,  where  I  was  sojourn 
ing,  for  a  ramble  on  foot  through  the 
northern  provinces  of  Italy.  Traveling  at 
leisure,  I  took  no  definite  route,  but  wandered  from 
place  to  place  as  momentary  fancy  or  inclination 
dictated.  In  this  way,  I  found  myself  in  the  midst 
of  a  wild  and  picturesque  region  among  the  moun 
tains  of  Tyrol.  Loitering  incautiously  to  view  th» 
numberless  sights  of  natural  interest  which  met  my 
gaze  at  every  step,  darkness  overtook  me  some  miles 
from  the  ancient  city  of  Meran,  where  I  expected 
to  spend  the  night.  I  was  on  the  top  of  a  moun 
tain,  the  road  was  rugged  and  dangerous,  and  to 
make  the  situation  worse,  an  ugly  storm  was  rap 
idly  approaching.  In  this  strait,  I  looked  around 
for  the  nearest  place  of  shelter,  and  seeing  a  thin 
column  of  smoke  curling  up  from  the  depths  of  a 
gorge  apparently  but  a  short  distance  off,  I  turned 
my  steps  in  that  direction.  Clambering  down  the 
mountain-side  with  much  difficulty,  when  near  the 
bottom,  my  course  was  arrested  by  a  bold  rivulet, 
which  went  dashing  and  foaming  over  its  rocky 
bed,  making  an  insuperable  barrier  to  my  further 

(99) 


100  WOODBOURNE. 

progress.  It  was  too  late  to  turn  back;  I  was 
fearful  of  losing  my  way,  and  thinking  it  safest  to 
follow  the  course  of  the  stream,  I  groped  along 
through  the  thick  copse  in  search  of  a  crossing. 
I  had  gone  but  a  little  way,  when  a  treacherous 
stone  slipping  under  my  foot,  I  lost  my  balance 
and  fell  over  the  bank  into  the  torrent.  I  remem 
ber  feeling  one  pang  of  excruciating  pain,  and  then 
all  was  dark.  When  I  awoke  to  consciousness, 
I  was  lying  on  a  couch  in  a  dimly  lighted  room. 
Two  persons  were  standing  by  the  bedside — a  man 
and  a,  woman.  'Holy  Virgin!  be  praised,'  I  heard 
the  man  say  in  a  whisper,  and  in  the  Italian 
tongue,  '  he  lives ;  the  tea,  Joanna.'  He  placed  a 
chalice  to  my  lips,  and  I  swallowed  the  contents, 
which  were  not  ungrateful  to  the  taste,  at  a  draught. 
What  the  decoction  was,  I  know  not;  but  its  effect 
was  magical.  In  a  twinkling  I  was  so  much  revived 
;is  to  ask  where  I  was  and  how  I  came  there.  I 
was  told  that  I  was  at  the  manse  of  the  cure  of 
a  neighboring  hamlet;  that  luckily  the  noise  I  made 
in  falling  into  the  water  caught  the  ear  of  a  dog 
at  a  chalet  close  by,  whose  baying  brought  some 
shepherds  to  my  rescue.  By  them  I  was  extricated 
and  conveyed  to  the  manse  in  a  senseless  condition. 
I  was  nearly  drowned,  but  otherwise  my  injuries 
were  not  serious — a  sprained  ankle  and  several  pain 
ful  bruises  made  up  the  catalogue.  My  good  physi- 
s'.an,  the  cure,  assured  me  that  I  would  be  well 
•aken  care  of,  and  bade  me  be  quiet  for  the  rest 
of  the  night,  wrhich  injunction  he  reinforced  by 
giving  me  a  composing  elixir  of  some  kind.  Next 
morning  I  was  well  enough  to  leave  my  bed, 


WOODBOUR]*E.  101 

although  disabled  from  walking  by  the  injury  to 
my  foot.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait 
patiently  for  it  to  heal  before  pursuing  my  journey, 
and  to  this  lot  I  was  easily  reconciled  on  finding 
in  my  host  not  only  a  kind  and  skillful  leach,  but 
a  most  agreeable  and  interesting  companion.  The 
spot  itself  was  very  attractive,  and  the  window  of 
my  room  looked  out  on  a  romantic  scene.  A  short 
distance  from  the  house  the  rivulet  widened  into 
a  lake  some  miles  in  extent,  which  was  completely 
engirdled  by  mountains.  On  the  opposite  side, 
perched  upon  a  lofty  crag,  was  a  half-ruined  castle, 
a  relic  of  the  feudal  times.  This  is  so  common  an 
object  in  that  country,  that  it  soon  ceases  to  attract 
the  attention  of  the  tourist.  Each  has  its  store  of 
dark  and  dismal  legends,  which  the  cicerone  recounts 
with  hideous  sameness  of  circumstance  and  detail. 
Of  course  the  castle  across  the  lake  was  no  excep 
tion;  but  having  supped  full  with  supernatural  hor 
rors,  I  felt  little  inclination  to  learn  its  history. 
For  that  reason,  I  was  not  prepared  to  hear  that 
it  had  recently  been  the  scene  of  a  tragedy  of  the 
most  harrowing  description. 

"It  was  the  morning  of  the  day  I  had  fixed  upon 
for  my  departure.  I  was  sitting  on  a  bench  in  the 
garden  reading,  when  the  cure  came  to  me.  I  saw 
from  his  countenance  that  he  had  something  of 
more  than  ordinary  interest  to  impart,  and  putting 
aside  my  book,  turned  toward  him  inquiringly,  as 
he  seated  himself  by  my  side.  'Doubtless,'  he 
began,  'you  think  it  was  what  short-sighted  mor 
tals  call  an  accident  that  turned  your  steps  hither; 
am  I  not  right  ? '  The  question  took  me  by  sur- 

8* 


102  WOODBOUBNE. 

prise.  I  replied,  that  while  I  believed  that  all  our 
acts  were  directed  by  an  over-ruling  Providence,  yet, 
not  having  the  gift  of  prophecy,  I  was  unable  to 
discern  what  there  was  of  special  significance  in 
the  event  to  which  he  referred.  'You  are  wise, 
my  son/  said  he,  'to  cast  from  you  the  Atheist's 
doctrine  of  blind  chance;  every  word  and  deed  of 
men,  casual  and  light  as  they  may  seem,  have  an 
everlasting  import  for  good  or  evil;  are  entered  up 
on  pne  side  or  the  other  of  the  dread  account 
book  of  eternity.  It  was  the  hand  of  God  that 
guided  you  to  this  place,  for  a  purpose  which  I 
will  presently  explain.  One  night  last  March,  while 
a  snow  storm  was  raging,  the  shepherds  at  the 
chalet  on  yonder  mountain  were  aroused  by  the 
loud  baying  of  a  dog,  and  going  to  see  what  was 
the  matter,  found  a  man  in  a  helpless  condition 
not  a  stone's  throw  from  the  spot  of  your  misad 
venture.  In  obedience  to  my  standing  injunction, 
they  brought  him  at  once  to  the  manse.  He  was 
the  veriest  wretch  my  eyes  ever  beheld,  the  merest 
shadow  of  a  human  being  in  the  last  stage  of  misery. 
I  did  all  in  my  power  to  restore  him,  but  my 
efforts  were  fruitless.  After  lingering  a  fortnight, 
he  died  of  simple  inanition.  Before  breathing  his 
last,  he  confessed  himself  of  a  crime  which  made  my 
blood  run  cold ;  he  was  the  victim  of  remorse.  I  had 
great  difficulty  in  understanding  his  broken  and,  at 
times,  incoherent  narrative;  but  this  was  the  sub 
stance  of  it.  The  man  was  a  Neapolitan,  a  ser 
vant  of  Don  Jacapo  Torella,  whose  family  is  one 
of  the  most  wealthy  and  powerful  in  that  kingdom. 
This  man,-  the  master,  was  such  a  villain  as  only 


WOODBOUKN'E.  103 

can  bp  found  in  that  land  where  Satan  holds  undis 
puted  dominion.  He  had  an  uncle,  Don  Lelio 
Torella,  a  virtuous,  good  man,  whose  dwelling  there 
was  as  solitary  as  Lot's  in  Sodom.  He  was  of  a 
somewhat  eccentric  disposition;  had  been  liberally 
educated;  was  fond  of  letters  and  the  company  of 
learned  men,  and  led  a  retired  life  at  his  villa 
near  the  city.  By  his  tact  and  abilities  he  had 
contrived  for  a  long  time  to  keep  clear  of  political 
broils,  and  to  maintain  a  strict  neutrality  in  the 
struggles  of  contending  factions.  He  was  a  bache 
lor;  with  him  lived  his  niece,  the  only  child  of 
a  sister,  whose  husband,  Eustace  Conrad,  was 
killed  in  the  affair  of  Villetri,  fighting  on  the  side 
of  Germany.  He  was  of  Saubian  origin,  as  his 
name  implied,  and  was  of  royal  descent.  The  policy 
of  Charles  the  Bourbon,  then  King  of  Naples,  was 
to  conciliate  all  classes  of  the  old  nobility  and 
higher  orders,  and  he  so  far  succeeded  in  this  as 
to  draw  even  the  inveterate  Don  Lelio  from  his 
retirement,  and  persuade  him  to  take  office  at  the 
court.  Here  his  caustic  wit  and  haughty  bearing 
kept  him  in  hot  water  with  the  prime  minister, 
who  was  a  man  of  narrow  views,  of  plebian  origin, 
and  head  of  the  third  estate — then  beginning  to 
exert  a  controlling  influence  in  public  affairs.  There 
was  at  that  time  a  young  officer  attached  to  the 
garrison  of  Castle  Nuovo,  who  was  a  special  favor 
ite  of  the  king;  he  was  known  as  Don  Henri 
Campabello.  He  was  of  English  parentage,  and  had 
entered  the  service  of  Naples  as  an  adventurer,  or 
soldier  of  fortune.  He  was  described  as  a  man  of 
extraordinary  personal  graces,  strangely  contrasting 


104  WOODBOUKNE. 

with  those  of  his  own  rank  by  whom  he  was  sur 
rounded. 

"'The  King  was  an  ardent  sportsman,  and  in  his 
hunting  excursions  Campabello  was  his  inseparable 
companion.  As  was  to  be  expected,  this  marked 
preference  of  the  sovereign  for  the  society  of  a 
foreigner  was  very  distasteful  to  the  native  chivalry, 
with  all  of  whom,  except  his  comrades-in-arms, 
he  was  in  constant  danger  of  open  rupture.  There 
was  another  person  in  whose  eyes  the  young  officer 
found  particular  favor;  this  was  Constance  Conrad, 
the  beautiful  niece  of  Don  Lelio,  and  it  was  soon 
apparent  that  the  old  nobleman,  too,  regarded  him 
with  far  more  esteem  than  he  did  any  other  of 
_her  numerous  suitors. 

"'In  course  of  time,  Don  Lelio  fell  into  trouble 
at  court,  having  quarreled  violently  with  Tanucci, 
the  premier,  and  in  a  fit  of  displeasure  retired  to 
his  villa.  Campabello's  rivals,  chief  of  whom  was 
Don  Jacapo  Torella,  now  redoubled  their  efforts  to 
degrade  him  in  the  king's  estimation,  and  with  the 
aid  of  the  all-powerful  minister,  so  far  succeeded 
as  to  prevail  with  Charles  to  order  him  away  to 
a  distant  garrison  on  the  plausible  pretext  of  its 
being  a  more  honorable  station.  But  before  the 
king's  command  Avas  made  known  to  Campabello, 
it  was  discovered  that  he  had  been  secretly  married 
to  Constance  at  the  instance  of  Don  Lelio,  who 
was  resolved  to  disappoint  the  schemes  of  his  rela 
tives,  whom  he  detested,  while  at  the  same  time  he 
dreaded  their  enmity.  The  discovery  was  the  signal 
of  the  terrible  troubles  which  followed  in  rapid  suc 
cession.  On  some  frivolous  accusation,  easily  invented 


WOODBOURXE.  105 

in  that  country  of  diabolical  plots,  Don  Lelio  was 
rudely  seized  and  thrown  into  the  dungeons  of 
the  Vicaria,  and  shortly  afterwards  Campabello  and 
his  wife,  Avith  their  infant  child,  disappeared  from 
the  scene  of  thickening  dangers.  Aware  of  the  im 
placable  nature  of  their  enemies,  they  took  every 
precaution  to  conceal  their  retreat.  Whither  they 
fled  was  known  only  to  one  trusty  servant,  who 
insisted  upon  sharing  their  lot.  Alas!  that  this 
poor,  devoted  friend  should  have  been  the  innocent 
cause  of  the  mischief  which  afterwards  ensued. 

"'Campabello  and  his  wife  were  naturally  much 
concerned  about  the  fate  of  Don  Lelio.  After  the 
lapse  of  two  months,  no  longer  able  to  restrain 
their  anxiety,  they  despatched  their  attendant,  Guil- 
lame,  on  a  secret  mission  to  Naples  for  news.  The 
messenger  returned  in  safety,  but  he  brought  with 
him  the  worst  tidings  their  fears  foreboded.  The 
old  nobleman  did  not  long  survive  the  brutal  out 
rage  to  which  he  had  been  subjected,  and  Don  Jacapo 
had  fallen  heir  to  his  possessions.  Time  rolled  on. 
The  child,  a  boy,  was  now  a.  year  old;  it  is  said 
that  he  closely  resembled  his  mother,  and  was 
exceeding  beautiful.  He  was  watched  over  with 
jealous  vigilance  by  his  parents;  and,  though  they 
had  implicit  confidence  in  his  nurse,  she  was  sel 
dom  permitted  to  take  him  out  of  doors.  One  day 
she  went  to  walk  with  the  child  and  never  more 
returned.  For  days  search  was  made  for  them 
without  avail.  At  last  the  body  of  the  woman  was 
discovered  floating  in  the  water  a  short  distance 
from  the  castle.' 

"'The  castle!'   I  involuntarily  exclaimed. 


106  AVOODBOUIINE. 

"'At  the  foot  of  the  high  rock  you  see  there  on 
the  right  of  that  old  ruin  is  where  they  found  her, 
but  there  was  no  trace  of  the  child.  His  loss  was 
a  fatal  blow  to  Lady  Campabello,  and  soon  after 
her  death  the  castle  was  deserted.  This  much  of  the 
story  was  current  among  the  villagers  when  I  came 
here  to  reside.  There  was  no  talk  amang  them  of 
foul  play.  It  was  generally  believed  that  the  body 
of  the  child  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  deep  lake,  into 
which  the  nurse  had,  as  they  surmised,  accidentally 
fallen.  Imagine,  then,  my  horror,  when  this  poor 
wretch,  in  accents  scarcely  audible,  told  how  he  had 
penetrated  Guillame's  disguise,  and  thus  discovered 
the  retreat  of  the  fugitives;  how  he  had  been  hired 
for  a  large  price  to  avenge  his  master  by  slaying 
his  hated  rival;  how,  foiled  in  that,  he  thought  he 
could  appease  his  master's  wrath  by  stealing  the 
child,  and  how,  in  carrying  out  that  fell  design, 
he  had  hurled  the  poor  woman  headlong  over  the 
precipice  into  the  lake  before  she  could  cry  out 
and  give  the  alarm.  He  carried  the  boy  to  Naples; 
but  instead  of  the  reward  he  expected,  he  was 
loaded  with  curses,  and  scourged  from  his  master's 
presence. 

"'What  shall  he  do  in  this  extremity?  It  is  a 
desperate  alternative;  yet  he  is  resolved  to  make 
one  more  effort  to  regain  his  master's  favor.  He 
makes  his  way  back  to  the  neighborhood  of  the 
castle,  taking  the  child  with  him.  He  finds  it 
deserted;  he  learns  the  lady's  fate;  sudden  and 
swift  the  awful  retribution  comes;  terror  and 
remorse  have  seized  upon  him.  Vile  and  desperate 
as  he  was,  he  had  no  thought  of  harming  the 


WOODBOVRNE.  107 

child;  indeed,  a  strange  revulsion  of  feeling  now 
possessed  him — he  could  have  no  peace  of  mind 
until  he  had  found  the  father,  and  restored  the 
child  to  him.  Where  to  look  for  him?  While  he 
was  lurking  around  the  castle,  he,  one  night,  caught 
fragments  of  a  conversation  between  the  young  offi 
cer  and  his  wife,  in  which  he  spoke  of  going  to 
France,  to  some  place  near  Grenoble.  Going  thither, 
he  could  learn  nothing  of  the  object  of  his  pur 
suit.  He  left  the  child  in  the  care  of  a  peasant 
woman,  living  near  an  old  chateau,  and  went  on 
to  Paris.  Here  his  evil  genius  involved  him  in  a 
serious  affray,  in  consequence  of  which  he  was  con 
demned  to  imprisonment  for  life. 

"  'After  three  years  of  confinement,  he  made  his 
escape.  His  first  thought,  on  regaining  liberty,  was 
of  the  child.  He  hastened  back  to  the  place 
where  he  had  left  it;  it  was  gone;  the  woman 
was  dead,  and  all  he  could  learn  of  the  child  was 
that  it  had  been  carried  away  by  a  stranger— a 
priest — no  one  could  tell  whither.  Then  he  gave 
up  to  despair.  He  became  a  vagabond  upon  the 
earth,  and  wandering  distractedly  hither  and  thither, 
at  last  is  drawn  by  some  mysterious  impulse  back 
to  the  scene  of  his  inexpiable  crime.  Ere  he  reaches 
it,  the  blinding  tempest  rushes  down  upon  him  and 
smites  him  senseless  to  the  earth.  How  he  was 
found  has  been  told.  He  had  barely  finished  his 
terrible  story,  when  he  fell  back  on  his  couch  and 
expired.  I  had  listened  to  many  a  tale  of  human 
suffering  and  crime,  but  nothing  in  all  my  expe 
rience  affected  me  as  did  the  confession  of  this 
miserable  man.  It  was  ever  in  my  mind,  and  I 


108  WOODBOUKNE. 

lived  from  day  to  day  in  the  hope  of  hearing  what 
had  become  of  the  father  and  child.  The  mother's 
grave  is  in  the  village  churchyard;  I  had  frequently 
visited  it  before,  but  now  it  was  invested  with 
peculiar  sanctity.  I  went  there  two  and  three  times 
every  week,  always  expecting  that  somebody  inter 
ested  in  the  unhappy  pair  would  come  to  inquire 
for  them.  Time  passed.  I  had  begun  to  feel  that 
my  hope  was  vain,  when  one  morning,  towards  the 
end  of  June,  on  repairing,  as  usual,  to  the  ceme 
tery,  I  was  startled  by  the  sight  of  a  man  stand 
ing  beside  the  grave  of  Constance.  He  leant  heavily 
upon  his  staff,  and  his  bare  head  was  bent  down  in 
prayer.  His  garments  were  threadbare  and  travel- 
stained,  and  he  carried  a  knapsack  strapped  to  his 
shoulders.  He  was  old,  and,  when  in  a  little  while, 
he  turned  to  go  away,  I  saw  that,  although  his 
carriage  was  erect,  his  step  was  slow  and  feeble. 
I  spoke  to  him.  He  stopped,  and  seeing  who  I 
was,  saluted  me  respectfully.  It  was  Guillame.  I 
took  him  home  with  me,  and  when  he  was  rested 
and  refreshed,  made  him  tell  his  story.  Briefly,  it 
was  this:  The  morning  after  Lady  Constance  was 
consigned  to  the  tomb,  Campabello  said  to  him, 
"We  must  part,  Guillame;  I  am  going  away." 
Throwing  himself  at  his  feet,  the  faithful  creature 
implored  his  master,  with  tears,  not  to  dismiss  him. 
Campabello  was  deeply  touched.  "So  be  it,"  he  said. 
"In  an  hour  wo  start  for  St.  Petersburg."  Here  let 
me  explain  what  was  the  secret  of  Guillame's 
attachment  to  the  young  Englishman.  He  had  been 
a  soldier  in  the  company  which  Campabello  com 
manded.  On  one  occasion,  a  subaltern  struck  him 


WOODBOUEXE.  109 

with  his  sword  for  some  fancied  dereliction  of  duty. 
Incensed  by  the  wanton  outrage,  he  gave  the  offi 
cer  a  blow  in  return  with  the  butt  of  his  musket, 
which  killed  him  outright.  For  this  offence,  he 
Avas  condemned  to  die,  and  the  sentence  would  have 
been  executed  but  for  the  intercession  of  Cum- 
pabello,  who  obtained  a  pardon  for  him  from  the 
king. 

"  'Arrived  at  their  destination,  the  young  officer 
was  kindly  received  by  the  Czar,  and  readily  given 
A  commission  in  the  Imperial  army.  His  stay  at 
the  capital  was  as  short  as  ceremony  permitted. 
Desiring  to  be  at  once  actively  employed,  he  was 
ordered  to  the  frontier.  Here,  in  time,  he  won  rep 
utation  and  honors  in  abundance.  Ambitious  of 
distinction,  and  ardently  devoted  to  the  profession 
of  arms,  he  was  in  the  full  tide  of  a  brilliant 
career,  when,  on  a  sudden,  his  health  succumbed 
to  the  rigors  of  that  inhospitable  climate.  His 
death  severed  the  last  tie  which  bound  Guillame 
to  earthly  objects.  He  felt  that  his  own  end  was 
not  far  off,  and  yearning  to  look  once  more  on  his 
native  sky  before  closing  his  eyes  forever,  he  had, 
with  toil  and  pain,  plodded  his  way  back  to  this 
spot.  His  prayer  had  been  granted,  and  now  he 
was  ready  to  die,  and  wished  to  be  buried  at  the 
feet  of  his  mistress.  I  told  him  the  valet's  story; 
lie  was  amazed  and  shocked  beyond  description. 
Xext  morning  he  came  to  me  equipped  for  a  jour 
ney — his  knapsack  on  his  back  and  staff  in  hand; 
said  he  was  going  in  search  of  the  child.  His  dear 
mistress  had  appeared  to  him  in  a  dream  in  her 
angelic  robes,  telling  him  that  little  Edward  was 
10 


110  AVOODBOURXE. 

alive,  and  commanding  him  to  go  without  delay.  It 
was  an  idle  fantasy,  but  I  knew  it  was  useless  to 
oppose  his  determination.  He  went,  I  fear,  never  to 
return.  You  came,  or  rather,  you  were  brought  here 
more  dead  than  alive.  Hearing  you  speak,  I  recog 
nized  your  country  in  your  voice.  You  were  come,  I 
thought,  in  search  of  the  lost  ones.  I  was  mis 
taken  ;  yet  you  were  directed  hither  by  the  Divine 
Power  as  the  means  of  bringing  it  all  to  light. 
Is  that  not  plain?' 

"Father  Manso's  narrative  made  a  deep  impression 
on  me.  The  more  I  reflected  on  it,  the  more 
earnest  became  the  desire  to  discover  the  fate  of 
the  poor  orphan.  Yet  it  seemed  to  my  view  an 
almost  hopeless  undertaking,  and  I  so  expressed 
myself  concerning  it  to  the  good  man,  whose  zeal 
in  the  matter  awakened  my  warmest  sympathy.  I 
had  no  idea,  I  said,  who  the  English  nobleman 
was.  There  were  ever  so  many  of  my  countrymen 
(I  did  not  think  it  worth  while  io  undeceive  him 
as  to  my  nativity),  abroad  in  Europe,  especially  in 
France.  I  had  met  one  or  more  of  them  at  every 
stage  of  my  travels ;  but  of  this  one,  I  had  not 
the  least  inkling.  '  Stay,'  said  the  priest ;  '  I  had 
nearly  forgotten  it;  look  at  this.'  He  drew  from  his 
bosom  a  gold  watch,  and  opening  the  case  handed 
it  to  me.  I  read  the  engraving,  '•'  To  Henry  Mark- 
ham,  from  his  uncle  Edward."  'That  watch/  con 
tinued  the  cure,  'was  entrusted  to  me  by  Guil- 
lame  before  he  went  away;  it  was  given  to  him 
by  his  master  on  his  death  bed.  Now,  at  least,  you 
know  what  was  the  officer's  name.'  'Yes/  said  I, 
repeating  the  inscription  aloud;  'but  it  affords  no 


WOODBOURNE.  Ill 

clue  to  the  missing  child;  if  it  did,  I  should  spare 
no  pains  or  sacrifice  in  following  it  up.  As  it 
was,  we  were  groping  in  total  darkness.  I  could 
only  engage  to  do  the  best  I  could  under  the  cir 
cumstances.'  'Go,  then,  my  son,'  said  he,  'and 
God's  blessing  attend  you.' 

"That  evening  I  set  out  to  return  to  Geneva. 
Thence,  in  a  few  days,  I  started  for  France,  trav 
eling  through  Savoy.  On  the  way  I  fell  ill.  I 
managed,  with  difficulty,  to  reach  the  monastery  of 
Grande  Chartreuse,  which  I  had  visited  once  before. 
There  I  was  tenderly  cared  for  through  the  severest 
illness  I  have  ever  experienced.  When  the  fever 
left  me,  I  became  the  prey  of  the  worst  dread 
which  can  possess  the  wanderer  in  a  strange  land, 
and  as  soon  as  I  was  strong  enough  to  travel,  I 
turned  my  face  homeward.  Yet  I  did  not  wholly 
forget  my  promise  to  Father  Manso.  As  it  lay 
near  my  route,  I  Avent  to  the  place  where  the. 
miscreant  had  left  the  child.  The  information  I 
obtained  only  went  to  confirm  his  account.  The 
chateau  was  ruinous  and  desolate  enough.  Nobody 
had  lived  there,  I  was  told,  since  the  old  lord, 
one  Count  de  Villieures,  died,  in  what  year  my 
informant  did  not  remember." 


CHAPTER  X. 


EAD  on,   Dick,"   said  Carleton,  us  Alloway 
paused. 

"That's  all  there  is,''  said  he.  "Uncle 
had  great  repugnance  to  speak  of  his  own 
sufferings.  He  had,  indeed,  been  sick  well  nigh 
unto  death,  and  his  frame  was  so  shattered  by  it, 
that  he  was  fearful  he  would  not  be  able  to  reach 
home.  He  told  mother  how  intensely  anxious  he 
was,  and  how  fervently  he  prayed  that  he  might 
be  suffered  to  lay  his  weary  burden  down  on  the 
spot  where  his  pilgrimage  begun." 

"It  is  that  thought  which  has  ever  embittered 
the  last  hour  of  the  poor  exile,"  replied  Carletou, 
with  feeling.  "Dulce  moricns  rcminiscitcr  Argos" 

Both  were  silent  for  several  minutes.  At  length 
Dick  said: 

"You  have  heard  the  story,  Harry,  what  do  vou 
think  of  it?". 

Harry  — "  Oh,  its  well  enough  as  far  as  it  goes ; 
indeed,  could  not  be  better  for  a  story,  as  you 
say;  but  it  is  not  much  to  the  point.  Campabello! 
that's  Italian  for  Campbell.  Mrs.  Graeme  was  a 
Campbell,  was  she  not?" 

Dick. — "Yes;    the   clan   is   legion." 

(112) 


WOODBOUKNE.  113 

Harry. — "But  you  told  me  Mrs.  Graeme  did  not 
talk  like  a  Scotchwoman. 

Dick. — "She  was  educated  in  England,  I  believe. 
The  fact  is,  I  know  just  nothing  at  all  about  her 
early  history;  yet  I'll  be  sworn  that  she  has  no 
more  to  do  with  that  Mr.  Conrad  and  his  affairs 
than  the  man  in  the  moon." 

Harry. — "It  may  be  so;  but  how  do  you  account 
for  her  husband's  strange  speech?'"' 

Alloway  made  no  reply. 

Harry. — "More  mystery,  Dickon,  my  boy;  the  plot 
thickens,  and  I  am  more  bent  than  ever  on  get 
ting  to  the  bottom  of  it.  Aye,"  he  exclaimed, 
springing  from  the  sofa,  and  glaring  in  true  stage 
fashion  at  an  imaginary  apparition,  "I'll  follow 
thee,  thou  ghost  or  goblin  damned,  though  thon 
leadest  me  to  the  Stygian  caves  forlorn,  'mid  sights 
and  sounds  and  shrieks  unholy ! " 

Alloway  laughed   heartily. 

"  "\Yhat  a  muddle  you  are  making  of  Milton  and 
Shakespeare!  Psha,  Harry,  let  the  parlez-vousing — " 

"Buccaneer,"'  suggested  his  friend,  seeing  him 
pause  for  a  word. 

"Anything  you  like,  so  you  send  him  packing 
about  his  business,  and  proceed  to  tell  me  more  of 
your  grand  military  project.  Bravo!  that's  the  look 
— every  inch  a  soldier — in  a  dressing-gown!  See 
how  his  bosom  glows,  and  how  he  pants  for  the 
glorious  fray;  IIOAV  he  smelleth  the  battle  afar  off; 
the  thunder  of  the  captains  and  the  shouting. 
Vincere  est  vivere!  that's  the  motto  for  a  true- 
hero." 

A   remarkable   change    had   indeed    come   over    the 
10* 


114  WOODBOURNE. 

volatile  spirits  of  the  youthful  cavalier.  His  hand 
some  face  was  lighted  up  with  strange  animation ; 
the  languid  air  and  light,  bantering  tone  were  gone, 
and  he  was  pacing  the  floor  with  quick  and  nerv 
ous  steps. 

"You  misjudge  me  greatly,  my  dear  friend,"  he 
instantly  replied,  in  a  somewhat  excited  and  im 
passioned  tone  of  voice,  "if  you  think  I  am  amhi- 
tious  of  military  renown,  and  long  for  the  fame 
which  is  to  be  gathered  in  the  dreadful  field  of 
revolution.  Believe  me,  I  do  not  aspire  after  the 
trophies  which  are  won  only  at  the  frightful  cost 
of  human  blood  shed  in  deadly  conflict.  In  my 
ears  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  is  a  summons  to 
the  carnival  of  death,  rousing  in  every  bosom  the 
'spirit  of  the  first-born  Cain.'  War,  unless  it  is 
waged  in  defence  of  our  country,  our  altars  and 
household  gods,  is  cool,  deliberate,  organized,  whole 
sale  murder.  In  the  dark  ages,  the  soldier's  trad^ 
was  the  one  honorable  profession.  The  sword  was 
the  universal  arbiter  of  disputes,  the  certain  badge 
of  nobility,  the  true  emblem  of  dignity  and  power; 
prowess  in  arms  was  the  only  guerdon  worthy  of 
attainment.  But  feudalism  was  unmitigated  bar 
barism,  a  scene  of  perpetual  strife,  rapine,  anarchy; 
a  saturnalia  of  blood,  a  horrible  orgy  of  crimes  of 
the  darkest  hue.  The  institution  of  knighthood  was 
the  only  partial  gleam  of  humanity  athwart  the  black 
sky;  a  feeble,  glimmering  ray  of  light  rendering 
the  darkness  more  profound.  You  seem  to  be  look 
ing  into  an  immense,  murky  cavern  of  embattled 
fiends,  realizing  Milton's  description  of  the  abode 
of  the  damned.  The  necessity  for  an  extra  judicial 


WOODBOUKNE.  115 

mode  of  repressing  cruelty  and  redressing  wrongs  is 
the  strongest  proof  of  the  degeneracy  of  the  race. 
By  the  laws  of  their  order,  these  martial  custo 
dians  of  society  and  vindicators  of  the  sacred  claims 
of  honor  and  chastity  were  bound  themselves  to 
respect  the  obligations  whose  violation  they  so  rig 
orously  punished  in  others;  but  although  they  miti 
gated,  in  some  degree,  the  ferocity  of  men,  they  did 
not  succeed  in  redeeming  the  world  from  the 
dominion  of  brute  violence.  Nay,  the  ensigns  armo 
rial  of  this  boasted  chivalry  are  crimson  dyed  with 
the  gore  of  innocent  victims  of  fanatical  zeal  and 
romantic  enthusiasm — euphumisms  for  licentious  pas 
sion  and  ungovernable  rage — sanctified  lust,  canonized 
murder.  Tantum  religio  potuit  saudere  malorum ! 
Godfrey  of  '  Bouillon  led  his  J)and  of  consecrated 
assassins  on  to  pillage  and  massacre  in  sight  of 
Calvary,  and  years  afterwards,  on  the  same  holy 
ground,  Richard  the  Lion-hearted  learned  his  first 
lessons  in  the  quality  of  that  mercy  'which  becometh 
the  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown'  from 
the  noble  example  of  a  Moslem  prince/' 

"Shade  of  La  Mancha!  what  shall  be  done  with 
this  profane  iconoclast?"  cried  Alloway,  as  Carleton 
paused  in  his  flight  to  rest  the  wings  of  his  elo 
quence.  "  Oh,  that  I  were  such  an  orator  as  Bru 
tus  is!" 

"Orator?  God  forbid!"  said  Carleton.  "One 
trumpeter  of  the  name  will  do;  it  is  high  time 
some  of  us  were  signalizing  our  zeal  in  acts,  and 
I  glory  in  being  the  first  to  set  the  example.  There 
is  no  lack  of  splendid  talkers  among  us;  they  are 
as  plentiful  as  lawyers  of  old  in  Naples.  What- 


116  WOODBOURXE. 

ever  you  do,  my  friend,  I  entreat  you  will  not 
write  me  down  among  the  homines  inerlissimi,  quo 
rum  omnis  vis  virtusque  in  lingua  sita  est." 

Dick. — "Orator  or  not,  you  'hae  sae  saft  a  voice 
and  slid  a  tongue/  that  you  can  say  three  words 
to  my  one.  But  I  have  yonder  an  authority  will 
confound  your  awful  invective.  Read  what  Dr. 
Eobertson  says  in  commendation  of  mediaeval  chivalry 
in  his  last  great  work — the  '  History  of  the  Reign 
of  Charles  V.'" 

Harry. — "I  have  read  carefully  every  word  of 
the  book.  History  has  been  my  chief  study  of  late; 
especially  everything  relating  to  the  abominations 
of  feudal  despotism.  Robertson's  laudation  of  this 
creature  of  military  genius  for  its  lasting  beneficial 
influence  on  the  manners  and  customs  of  a  bar 
barous  age,  is  all  leather  and  prunella.  Think  of 
his  saying  that  the  germ  of  modern  as  distinguished 
from  ancient  civilization  is  contained  in  the  bond 
of  knight-erranty.  Why,  sir,  civilization  owes  more 
to  the  humble  mechanic  of  Mentz  than  to  all  the 
mitres,  sceptres  and  swords  of  Christendom.  The 
PRIXTIXG  PRESS  was  the  mighty  engine  which  bat 
tered  down  the  walls  of  arbitrary  power  and  freed 
the  soul  from  the  bondage  of  ignorance,  error  and 
superstition.  To  this  art  of  arts  are  due  the  amelio 
rations  of  human  society — all  those  grand  reforma 
tions  which  are  now  in  process  of  fulfillment;  in 
the  institutions  of  policy;  in  the  canons  of  religious 
doctrine  and  belief;  in  the  essential  principles  of 
jurisprudence  and  the  enlightened  precepts  of  gov 
ernment,  no  less  than  in  the  countless  appliances 
of  industry  and  wealth — in  everything  that  human 
izes,  elevates,  refines  and  adorns  human  character." 


WOODBOURNE.  117 

"Well  for  you/'  said  Dick,  taking  advantage  of 
a  pause  in  Carleton's  oration  to  edge  in  a  word, 
"that  you  did  not  live  in  the  days  of  old  Sir 
William  Berkeley;  he  would  have  hung  you  higher 
than  Hainan  for  that  audacious  speech." 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Dick,"  rejoined  his  compan 
ion.  "As  I  was  going  to  remark,  I  am  free  to 
admit  that  originally  the  word  chivalry  was  meant 
to  denote  the  acme  of  manly  virtue,  the  supreme 
ideal  of  private  worth,  public  zeal  and  religious 
devotion.  But  soon  the  honor  of  knighthood  became 
a  purely  arbitrary  distinction;  a  conventional  char 
ter  of  exclusive  personal  privileges;  a  merely  fac 
titious  order  of  so-called  nobility.  It  was  no  more 
prized  as  the  reward  of  true  merit,  of  courage 
tempered  with  gentleness  and  Christian  courtesy; 
no  longer  was  it  the  sure  evidence  of  substantial 
claims  to  spotless  renown.  No,  it  now  became  the 
paltry,  unprized  gift  of  princely  favor;  a  thing  of 
accident,  a  toy,  a  bauble;  its  lustre  dimmed  by 
brutal  excesses,  and  its  guerdons  the  insignia  of 
tyrannical  power/' 

Here  Alloway  made  a  desperate  effort  to  rally  to 
the  defence  of  the  abused  paladins,  but  he  was 
borne  down  by  the  sweeping  torrent  of  Carleton's 
harangue. 

"As  for  the  protection  afforded  the  weaker  sex, 
the  refinements  of  gallantry  and  all  that  sort  of 
Sydnean  rhodomontade,  the  charter  of  knighthood 
was  not  the  first  recognition  of  the  righful  province 
of  woman,  nor  admission  of  the  benignant  influence 
of  her  gentle  sway  in  curbing  the  headstrong  pas 
sions  and  softening  the  rugged  asperities  of  savage 


118  WOODBOUKXE. 

man.  This  uncouth  gallantry  was  a  sentimental, 
spasmodical  worship  of  the  impersonations  of  phren- 
zied  fancy,  not  the  natural  spontaneous  feeling  of 
devotion,  love  and  deference  for  creatures  endowed 
with  charms  and  graces  which  make  them  the  living 
fountains  of  the  choicest  blessings  of  society.  Let 
us  give  the  old  paladins  credit  for  the  best  inten 
tions  in  their  ungainly  schemes  of  reformation ;  but 
in  the  name  of  true  manhood,  let  us  at  the  same 
time  protest  that  it  was  not  a  marvellous  display 
of  heroic  virtue  to  shield  helpless  beauty  from 
insult  and  violence,  and  to  render  that  homage  no 
generous  heart  could  refuse  to  la  belle  sexe.  And  then 
their  immaculate  tribunal  of  justice,  their  sublime 
code,  of  honor,  their  amazing  discovery  that  truth 
was  a  Phrygian  puzzle  which  only  the  sword  could 
unravel.  It  ought  to  be  enough  among  Christian 
people  to  know  that  duelling  is  condemned  by  the 
word  of  God.  But  examine  it  on  merely  human 
grounds.  It  is  claimed  to  be  the  only  honorable 
method  of  disposing  of  mortal  quarrels  between 
man  and  man.  A  combat  to  be  honorable  must  be 
fair  and  equal,  and  everybody  knows  that  it  is 
practically  impossible  to  put  the  belligerents  on  such 
terms  that  the  advantage  will  not  be  greatly  in 
favor  of  one  or  the  other  of  them.  The  challenged 
party,  who  is  generally  most  in  the  wrong,  is  allowed 
the  choice  of  weapons,  and,  unless  he  be  wholly 
indifferent  to  the  issue,  is  sure  to  select  the  death- 
dealing  instrument  with  which  he  is  most  familiar. 
But  what  moral  right  have  you  to  require  the 
injured  or  aggrieved  party  to  forego  any  superi 
ority  he  may  possess?  AVhat  rule  of  justice  demands 
that  you  should  take  3*our  adversary's  weapons,  or 


WOODI30URXE.  119 

even  advise  him  with  what  sort  of  artillery  you  pur 
pose  to  fight?  Think  of  David's  sending  Goliah  word 
that  he  was  coming  forth  to  battle  armed  with  a 
sling  and  five  smooth  stones  out  of  the  brook,  and 
thereby  giving  the  ugly  giant  a  chance  to  collect 
a  magazine  of  boulders  and  bombard  him  to  death 
at  long  range.  If  men  will  resort  to  this  san 
guinary  mode  of  accommodating  disputes,  if  only 
blood  can  Avash  out  the  stains  of  affronted  dignity, 
then  assuredly  a  decent  respect  for  social  obliga 
tions  plainly  dictates  that  the  combatants  should 
end  the  matter  with  as  little  ado  as  possible,  and 
whatever  may  be  the  result  of  the  fight,  the  least 
said  about  honor  the  better.  Honor  can  never  be 
vindicated  by  bloody  reprisals,  any  more  than  the 
blazonry  of  chivalrous  deeds  can  ennoble  the  per 
petrators  of  cruel  injustice.  At  the  best,  what 
merit  is  there  in  being  accounted  a  skillful  or  a 
fortunate  duellist  ?  *  It  is  not  Harry  Monmouth 
exulting  over  the  fallen  Percy,  stooping  to  pluck 
the  budding  honors  from  that  noble  crest  to  make 
a  garland  for  his  own,  who  appears  grandly  heroic, 
but  Harry  the  King,  as  he  is  pictured  by  the 
divine  artist  on  the  night  before  Agincourt — 

'• '  Upon  his  royal  face  there  is  no  note 

How  dread  an  army  hath  surrounded  him, 

Nor  doth  he  dedicate  one  jot  of  color 

Unto  the  weary  and  all-watched  night ; 

But   freshly  looks  and  overbears  attaint 

With  cheerful  semblance  and  sweet  majesty, 

That  every  wretch,  pining  and  pale  before, 

Beholding  him,  plucks  comfort  from  his  looks— 

A  largess  universal  like  the  sun, 

His  liberal  eye  doth  give   to  every  one, 

Thawing  cold  fear.'  ' 


120  WOODBOURNE. 

Having  rendered  this  magnificent  quotation  in  a 
way  that  Garrick  or  John  Kemble  could  not  have 
excelled,  Carleton  subsided  into  his  former  recum 
bency  with  the  lackadaisical  and  insouciant  air  of 
one  to  whom  such  oratorical  flourishes  were — 

"  Xo  more  difficile 
Than  for  pig  to  squeal  er  blackbird  to  whistle." 

<;  Jupiter  Tonans !  "  exclaimed  Alloway,  "  what  a 
Vesuvius  of  eloquence.  And  all  this  tirade  because 
I  happened  to  say  that  you  had  the  bearing  of  a 
soldier,  longing  to  flush  his  maiden  sword.  I  recant, 
Harry.  After  all,  fighting  is  a  wretched  trade,  and 
for  one,  I  am  willing  to  forego  my  share  of  its 
gory  and  grinning  honors.  Excuse  me  for  quoting 
Shakespeare,  but  it  is  my  highest  aspiration — 

'"To  live  the  lease  of  nature  and  pay  my  brcatli 
To  time  and  mortal  custom.' 

"Whatever  your  wise  saws  may  say,  death  is  an 
ugly  customer,  come  when  and  how  he  will ;  and  none 
the  more  Avelcome  because  he  has  a  churlish  habit 
of  coming  unasked  and  undesired.  Then,  for  the 
glory  of  the  thing,  what  is  there  to  choose  between 
the  laureled  crown  of  the  'hook-nosed  fellow  of 
Home/  and  the  scalp-locks  of  various  hues  which 
deck  the  robe  of  the  mighty  king  of  «the  Wampa- 
noags  ?  And  as  for  those  great,  hulky  bullies'  of 
the  grand  carousal,  sheathed  all  over  in  'helm  and 
hauberk's  twisted  mail/  sword  and  lance  proof, 
what  were  their  wrought-iron  pastimes,  their  jousts 
and  tourneys,  compared  with  the  robust  and  plucky 
rencontres  of  the  old  gladiators  of  the  Coliseum, 
who  went  at  it,  stripped  to  the  buff,  and  hacked 


WOODBOUHNE.  121 

the  flesh  off  each  other  until  nothing  was  left  of 
them  but  a,  bloody  array  of  skeleton  warriors  rat 
tling  defiance  to  death  itself?  But,  sir,  do  you 
wish  to  see  my  perfect  model  of  a  fighting  animal? 
Behold  him  in  the  wrathful,  red  fiend  of  the  wil 
derness,  accoutred  for  the  war-path;  the  incarna 
tion  of  real  chivalry  in  naked  majesty.  Talk  of 
Grecian,  Roman,  Saxon  or  Celtic  courage  and  forti 
tude — 

"'Believe  me,  prince,   there  is  not  an  Indian 
That  traverses  our  vast  American  deserts 
In  quest  of  prey  and  lives  upon  his  bow, 
But  better  practices   these  boasted  virtues.' 

"Pour  vivre  en  se-fait  tuer,  is  the  motto  of  the 
killing  trade  the  world  over.  Between  the  hero 
and  the  brute  it  is  but  a  toss-up,  as  you  were  say 
ing,  Harry." 

Carletoii  did  not  deign  to  notice  this  unseemly 
badinage;  so  Dick  picked  his  flint,  and  began  blaz 
ing  away  at  him  again. 

"  0,  for  the  genius  of  Moliere !  what  a  comedy 
I  would  indite.  L&  soldat  malgre  lui,  worth  an 
army  of  your  mock  doctors;  a  veritable  hero,  whose 
natal  star  was  the  serenest  of  the  heavenly  orbs. 
For  a  surety,  my  Harry  is  not  that  famous  '  Hot 
spur  of  the  Korth,'  he  that  kills  me  some  six  or 
seven  dozen  of  Scots  at  a  breakfast." 

This  time  the  shot  told;    Carleton  was  half  angry. 

"You  certainly  can  make  yourself  supremely  ridic 
ulous  when  you  try,  you  great,  hairy  jack-pudding," 
he  exclaimed,  snatching  up  the  poker  and  making  a 
feint  as  if  he  were  going  to  run  Dick  through  the 
body  with  it.  "  You  know  well  enough  that  what  I 
11 


122  WOODBOURNE. 

have  said  was  not  intended  to  decry  the  profession  of 
arms,  nor  to  underrate  the  military  art.  Nobody 
appreciates  the  character  of  a  true  soldier  higher 
than  I  do.  The  unsullied  honors  which  are  won 
in  the  field  of  duty  are  above  the  price  of  rubies; 
he  does  not  deserve  to  be  called  a  man  who  turns 
his  back  on  his  country's  foes.  But  the  mercenary 
wretch  whose  sword  is  up  for  hire;  the  blood 
thirsty  creature  who  fights  for  the  mere  love  of 
fighting,  who  delights  in  war  for  Avar's  sake,  as 
Xenophon  says  of  Clearchus — " 

"Are  all  a  vile,  murderous  crew  at  the  best,"  said 
Dick;  "the  moral  of  all  your  fine  talk  is,  that  wars, 
like  plagues  and  earthquakes,  are  unavoidable  calam 
ities,  and  therefore  the  soldier's  vocation  will  never 
be  out  of  fashion.  "Well,  as  Corporal  Nym  says, 
'things  must  be  as  they  may.'  Don't  mind  my  chaf 
fing,  Harry;  I  know  you  will  act  your  part  as 
becomes  -a  right  valiant  rebel,  whether  you  like  the 
business  or  not.  But,  I  say,  when  did  the  Carle- 
tons  get  to  be  such  a  rebellious  set  ?  the  name  once 
stood  for  loyalty  itself." 

Harry. — "Loyalty,  forsooth!  First  tell  me  what 
makes  a  rebel  before  you  impugn  my  loyalty,  as 
you  call  it." 

"What  makes  a  rebel?"  slowly  repeated  Dick; 
"strange  that  I  never  thought  seriously  of  that 
question  before.  To  be  a  rebel  one  must  have  com 
mitted  treason  in  some  way.  But  what  is  treason  ? 
It  strikes  me  that  Harrington  made  a  palpable  hit 
in  his  famous  couplet — 

'"Treason  doth  never  prosper,  what's  the  reason, 
For  if  it  prosper,   none  dare  call  it  treason.' 


AVOODBOUItNE.  123 

ILirry. — '''Precisely  so;  and  hence  loyalty  is  a 
noun  Proteus,  which  no  lexicographer  has  ever  been 
able  to  define." 

Dick. — "Wait  till  old  ' Taxation-no-Tyranny '  pub 
lishes  the  second  edition  of  his  dictionary,  and  we 
shall  have  your  Proteus  '  drained  in  a  limbec  to 
his  native  form.'  For  example:  Loyally — a  term 
employed  to  denote  that  overpowering  sensation  of 
awe  and  reverence  which  is  inspired  by  the  con 
templation  of  the  divinity  which  doth  hedge  a 
king.  But  Ave  are  going  to  succeed  in  this  struggle, 
and  then  Ave  can  have  a  vocabulary  of  our  OAvn, 
which  will  put  to  shame  the  servile  coiners  of 
words  who  would  call  a  whale  a  weasel  at  the  bid 
ding  of  any  Royal  Dane." 

Carleton   laughed. 

"Glibly  said,  for  orator  Mum.  NOAV  that  he  has 
shaken  the  reefs  out  of  his  rhetorical  sails,  he  has 
completely  taken  the  wind  out  of  mine." 

"And  when  the  muss  is  o\rer,  and  we  are  a  free, 
independent,  and  supremely  happy  people,"  continued 
Dick,  with  reneAved  volubility,  "Avbat  are  we  going 
to  do  next?  There's  the  rub.  I  should  go  for  a 
monarchy  if  I  were  sure  of  a  dukedom  for  myself. 
If  it  is  to  be  a  republic,  then  let  us  have  the 
strongest  possible  infusion  of  the  aristocratical  ele 
ment.  I  confess  I  am,  for  one,  no  admirer  of  pure 
and  unadulterated  democracy,  and  regret  to  see  that 
some  of  our  state  cooks  are  for  putting  so  much 
of  that  sort  of  leaATen  in  our  political  loaf." 

Harry. — "The  current  of  opinion  sets  overwhelm 
ingly  in  favor  of  a  republic.  I  wish  you  could 
see  the  letters  my  father  has  received  from  every 


124  WOODBOURNE. 

quarter  on  this  subject,  especially  those  from  Col. 
George  Muson  and  Mr.  Samuel  Adamc.  There  is 
no  disputing  the  fact  that  the  republican  form  of 
government  is  the  choice  of  this  generation  of 
Americans.  If  posterity  don't  like  it,  why  let  pos 
terity  make  one  to  suit  themselves." 

Leaving  these  young  rebels  to  their  dish  of  pol 
itics,  let  us  direct  the  reader's  attention  to  some 
of  the  other  persons  of  our  drama. 


CHAPTER   XL 


Y  a  singular  combination  of  circumstances, 
it  so  happens  that  the  anniversary  of 
Miss  Lucy  Graeme's  nativity  is  one  of 
the  days  in  our  story's  calendar  most 
crowded  with  stirring  incidents.  Despite  the  evil 
prediction  of  the  immemorial  weather  prophet,  the- 
dawn  we  celebrate  came  not  in  heavy  with  clouds 
and  lowering  with  gloomy  forebodings,  but  was 
robed  in  a  dreamy  mantle  of  heavenly  radiance, 
which  made  every  object  appear  as  though  it  dwelt 
in  a  perpetual  realm  of  drowsy-headed  illusion. 
Yet  it  was  in  reality  no  fairy-land  of  shadowy  im 
ages,  enchanting  visions  and  "dreams  that  wave 
before  the  half-shut  eye";  on  the  contrary,  it  was  a 
breathing,  throbbing  part  of  that  grand  theatre  whose 
curtain  was  about  to  rise  on  the  swelling  scene  of 
the  world's  supremest  hopes. 

As  we  were  saying,  the  eventful  day  was  come, 
and  Bonhill  resounded  with  the  busy  note  of  prep 
aration.  It  is  the  little  lady-regent's  first  essay  at 
entertaining  on  so  large  a  scale,  and  she  duly 
appreciates  the  weight  of  responsibility  which  rests 
on  her  pretty  shoulders.  Trying  as  the  situation 
is,  enough  to  tax  the  resources  of  the  most  expe- 

11*  (125) 


126  WOODBOUKNE. 

rienced  adept  in  the  occult  science  of  housekeep 
ing,  we  have  no  sort  of  misgiving  that  sho  will 
not  come  off  with  flying  colors  from  the  field  of 
her  unwonted  labors. 

Eeturning  from  his  customary  morning  ride,  Mr. 
Graeme  found  the  house,  as  he  would  say,  turned 
"  heels-owre-gowdie "  from  attic  to  cellar.  Every 
where  the  genius  of  distraction  reigned  supreme. 
Even  the  paternal  sanctum  had  not  escaped  the 
invasion  of  the  common  enemy  of  peace  and  quiet; 
it  was  undergoing  a  complete  overhauling  and  set 
ting  to  rights,  preparatory  to  being  dedicated  to  a 
variety  of  unheard  of  uses,  and  especially  for  the 
behoof  of  those  elderly  persons  who  preferred  a 
rubber  at  whist  or  a  game  of  vingt-un  to  the 
boisterous  attractions  of  fiddling  and  dancing.  Only 
his  wife's  chamber  was  sacred  ground;  but  the 
self-respect  of  the  worthy  gentleman  revolted  at  the 
notion  of  being  held  a  prisoner  in  his  own  castle, 
and  calling  after  the  boy  who  was  leading  his 
horse  to  the  stable,  he  determined  to  make  his 
exit  from  the  scene  of  domestic  din  and  disorder. 
As  he  was  leaving  the  hall  with  that  view,  he  was 
intercepted  by  his  daughter,  who  came  tripping  up 
to  him  with  an  open  letter  in  her  hand,  and  in 
the  most  aggravating  manner  actually  carolling  a 
stave  of  one  of  his  favorite  songs. 

"Nae  luck  about  the  house!"  he  exclaimed,  taking 
the  words  from  her  mouth,  and  trying  his  best  to 
preserve  an  awkward  assumption  of  outraged  dignity. 
"Is  this  yer  manners,  to  drive  a  body  out  o'  doors 
with  your  clatter  and  skirling  eneugh  to  distrackit 
auld  Nick;  and  he  yer  ain  dear  faither." 


VrOODBOURXE.  127 

"I  am  sure  the  poor,  persecuted  body  could 
make  himself  very  comfortable  up-stairs  in  mother's 
room,"  was  the  provoking  reply  to  his  grievous 
complaint. 

"In  yer  mither's  room;  a  douce  answer  to  a 
ceevil  question.  Hech,  sirs!  a  pretty  pass,  the  head 
o'  the  family  maunna  hae  his  ain  seat  in  his  ain 
house.  That  gate  belyve  I  shall  be  e'en  begging 
your  leddyship'a  permission  to  wear  my  ain  breecks. 
What  are  ye  snirtling  at,  ye  little  imp  o'  the  deil? 
Let  me  catch  ye  grinning  at  me  again,  an'  I'll 
gie  ye  that  will  gar  ye  laugh  out  o'  the  wrang 
side  o'  your  mouth." 

The  threat  was  aimed  at  the  luckless  urchin  who 
had  brought  the  letter  for  Lucy  from  Clifton,  and 
who  was  detected  in  a  broad  grimace  at  what  he 
seemed  to  think  was  very  rare  fun. 

"Alack,  alack ! "  cried  Lucy,  catching  him  by  the 
lappel  of  his  coat,  and  looking  up  at  him  in  a 
commiserating  way,  "  how  I  do  pity  the  poor  head 
of  the  family;  if  he  is  well  nigh  daft  at  the  clat 
ter  and  skirling  of  the  scrubbing-brush,  what  will 
become  of  him  when  he  hears  the  dinsome  clamor 
of  the  dancing  and  deray  to-night? 

'"The  cushat  croods,   the  corbie  crie?, 
The  cuckoo  couks,   the  prattling  pies 

To  keek  hir    they  begin ; 
The  jargon  o'  the  jangling  jays, 
The  craiking  craws,   the  keekling  kayes, 

They  deaved  me  with  their  din.'" 

An  apt  representation  of  the  melodious  discord 
one  hears  in  a  room  full  of  gay  revellers,  all  laugh 
ing  and  talking  in  an  undistinguishable  jumble  of 


128  -\VOODBOUENE. 

hilarious  sounds,  and  she  recited  it  with  such 
humorous  effect  that  Mr.  Graeme's  sides  fairly  shook 
with  laughter  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  maintain 
his  gravity.  Yet  there  was  a  mischievous  twinkle 
in  his  eye  as  he  chimed  in  with  his  daughter's 
merry  mood. 

"Hout  tout,  lass,"  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he 
had  recovered  his  breath;  "gang  awa  wi'  your  daf- 
fin.  Ye  dinna  really  suppose  that  I  care  a  bodle 
mysel  for  your  noise  and  dirdum  and  a'  that;  I 
was  only  just  the  moment  thinking  what  the  gude 
minister  will  hae  to  say  anent  the  matter;  he'll 
be  sair  mistrysted,  I  hae  nae  doubt,  at  sic  a  sight 
o'  wardly  vanity." 

Instantly  the  tables  were  turned;  the  mischief- 
loving  damsel  was  transformed  as  if  by  magic  into 
a  ludicrous  picture  of  mingled  consternation  and 
chagrin. 

"Goodness  sake!  papa,  you  don't  mean  to  tell 
me  that  Mr.  Waddell  is  coming  to-night?"  she 
faltered  out. 

The  old  gentleman  made  no  reply  in  words,  he 
merely  shook  his  head  solemnly  sideways  and  down- 
ways,  as  the  sly  twinkle  lurking  in  his  eye  grew 
more  and  more  intolerably  wicked.  To  account  for 
this  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  on  Miss  Lucy's 
part,  it  is  necessary  to  remark  that  Mr.  Waddell 
was  the  famous  "new-light"  preacher,  who,  it  had 
been  given  out,  would  hold  forth  in  the  parish 
church  on  the  next  Sunday,  and  who  was  expected 
to  make  his  quarters  at  Bonhill  towards  the  close 
of  the  week.  Now,  there  had  never  been  a  dissent 
ing  minister  in  that  immediate  neighborhood  within 


•\VOODBOURXE.  129 

the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant,  and  the  preva 
lent  opinion  of  such  a  character  was  far  from  flat 
tering,  or  expressed  in  very  reverential  or  even 
respectful  terms.  He  was  generally  looked  upon  to 
be  sour,  peevish,  cross  and  splenetic,  with  an  elon 
gated,  kill-joy  visage,  a  harsh,  whining  voice,  which 
"entuned  in  the  nose  full  swetely,"  and  with  a 
garb  to  match  these  prepossessing  endowments  of 
the  most  puritanical  pattern.  With  all  her  respect 
for  her  father's  pronounced  religious  predilections, 
Lucy  had  been  insensibly  impressed  by  the  obnox 
ious  popular  description  of  the  itinerant  preacher  of 
the  period,  and  the  idea  of  having  one ~  of  the  num 
ber  in  the  house  on  a  day  which  had  been  set 
apart  for  festivity  and  jollification  was  anything  but 
pleasant  to  contemplate.  Then  she  knew  that  Mr. 
Graeme  would  be  mortified  beyond  measure  if  his 
visitor  was  not  agreeably  lodged  and  entertained 
with  the  exemplary  courtesy  and  respectful  atten 
tion  which  was  due  to  his  sacred  calling,  and  she 
was  naturally  apprehensive  concerning  his  reception 
at  the  hands  of  the  more  thoughtless  of  the  gay 
company,  who  might  be  disposed  to  resent  the 
presence  of  a  rigid  presbyter  as  "an  infusion  of 
myrrh  into  the  festive  goblet."  No  wonder,  then, 
that  she  was  dismayed  at  the  suggestion  of  Mr. 
"VVaddell's  intrusion  on  the  scene  of  pleasure,  and 
looked  as  if  she  was  ready  to  cry  with  vexation. 
Mr.  Graeme's  heart  melted  at  sight  of  her  extreme 
discomfiture. 

"Dinna  greet,  lassie,"  said  he,  kissing  her  affec 
tionately;  "ye  maunna  mind  my  daffin.  The  min 
ister  will  na  come  before  to-morrow  e'en,  so  Jamie 


130  WOODBOUKXE. 

Gordon  writes.  What  hae  ye  got  there?"  he  asked, 
glancing  at  the  letter  in  her  hand. 

"It's  only  a  line  from  Mary  Littleton,"  replied 
Lucy,  "  to  inquire  when  the  Katrine  will  sail. ' 

Mr.  Graeme  pricked  up  his  ears  at  this  announce 
ment,  but  his  countenance  immediately  fell  as  she 
added : 

"The  information  is  particularly  desired  by  the 
strange  gentleman." 

"The  strange  gentleman?"  he  sneeringly  repeated; 
"I  dinna  ken  why  he's  aye  speerin'  after  the  ves 
sel." 

"That's  Mr.  Conrad's  affair,  my  dear  sir,"  retorted 
Lucy,  who  had  not  yet  forgiven  him  his  cruel  joke. 
"What  answer  shall  I  make  to  the  polite  request 
of  your  bubbly-jock,  for  such  he  certainly  appears 
to  be  from  the  way  you  speak  of  him." 

Again  her  father  laughed  heartily.  The  popular 
anecdote  of  the  half-witted  gowk  who  had  such  a 
mortal  fear  of  the  great,  gobbling  turkey-cock  was 
one  of  his  jocular  stand-bys. 

"The  unnatural  bairn,"  he  exclaimed,  "aye  shootin' 
at  her  auld  faither  wi'  his  ain  gun.  Ye  mind  the 
story  then?  But  what  gars  ye  think  I  am  sair 
hadden  doun  by  the  bubbly-jock?" 

"Because,"  was  the  unexpectedly  round  response, 
"you  give  yourself  more  concern  about  him  than 
I  can  see  any  reason  for." 

Mr.  Graeme's  face  reddened  a  little  at  his  daugh 
ter's  bluntness;  but  his  displeasure,  if  he  really 
felt  any,  vanished  the  moment  he  met  her  rallying 
glance. 

"Weel,  woel,  lass,"   said  he,  "ye  are  na  far  wrang; 


WOODBOURKE.  ''SI 

it's  sinfu'  idling  o'  precious  time,  if  it  is  naething 
warse.  Sae,  ye  maun,  just  tell  the  young  leddie  or 
the  — ." 

"Bubbly-jock,"  said  Lucy. 

"Gentleman,"  continued  her  father,  with  reprov 
ing  emphasis  on  the  word;  "wi'  my  respectful 
compliments,  that  the  Katrine  will  set  sail  on  the 
first  fair  wind  after  twal  o'clock  the  night,  and  he 
kens  when  that  will  be  precisely  as  weel  as  mysel." 

"That  does  not  sound  like  a  polite  message, 
papa." 

"It  is  een  word  for  word  as  I  got  it  frae  your 
cousin  Ballantine  at  the  store  a  while  gone;  but 
say  it  to  suit  yoursel.  And  now  I  am  minded  to 
ask,  did  you  add'  the  postscript  to  the  letter  to 
Geordie?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Lucy,  "every  word  as  you 
desired  it — the  message  about  the  model  of  the  new 
steam  engine,  and  the  threshing  machine,  and  all; 
and  I  also  requested  him  to  send  me  the  latest 
collection  of  songs — the  one  just  published  in  Edin 
burgh." 

"A'  right  eneugh,"  said  her  father;  "yet  how 
you  will  get  them  is  anither  question.  The  Katrine, 
I  am  afraid,  is  the  last  vessel  we  shall  see  frae 
the  auld  countree  these  mony  lang  and  weary  days. 
It  gars  me  grew  to  think  on't.  A  waefu  warld. 
It's  aye  the  way  o'  it,  thae  folk  wha  hae  maist 
cause  to  be  freenly  and  Christianlike  and  forbear 
ing  in  a'  their  dealings  with  ain  anither,  are  the 
vera  ones  to  fall  out  and  gae  to  hacking  ilk  ithers 
thrapples  anent  the  right  and  the  wrang  o'  this  and 
that  metapheesical  abstraction,  so  that  there  is 


132  WOODBOUENE. 

never  an  end  o'  contention,  and  strife,  and  blood 
shed,  and  destruction.  I  hae.  my  ain  gude  opinion 
on  the  subject;  but  wha's  the  use  arguing  wi'  a, 
wbeen  het-headed  callants  wha  will  na  hearken  to 
rhyme  or  reason?  I  maun  as  weel,  as  the  saying 
is,  keep  my  breath  to  cool  my  parritch.  Ane  it  her 
thing,  you  sent  the  invitations  to  the  gentlemen 
whase  names  I  gave  you?" 

"I  did,  papa,"  said  Lucy;  "although  I  was 
doubtful  of  the  propriety  of  asking  Mr.  Thompson 
to  the  party;  his  politics,  you  know—" 

"  Politics ! "  interrupted  Mr.  Graeme,  with  some 
warmth;  "wha's  fule  eneugh  to  talk  o'  politics  and 
sic  like  clishrnaclavers  on  a  conveevial  occasion.  I 
will  hae  Mr.  Thompson  and  his'  wife  in  the  bar 
gain;  they  have  aye  been  gude  neeborly  bodies,  as 
far  as  I  ken  to  the  contrairy,  and  his  politics  is 
his  ain  business.  I  dinna  care  a  bodle  for  Whig 
or  Tory ;  I'se  warrant  I  hae  them  a' '  dancing  the 
reel  o'  Tullockgorum  before  the  wee  sma'  hours  the 
night.  And  now  I  maun  be  ganging  over  to  nee- 
ber  Alloway's,  and  hae  a  chat  wi'  that  young  Mr. 
Carleton;  he  is  a  braw  lad,  and  I  hue  taken  a 
prodigious  fancy  till  him,  not  that  I  think  ony 
the  less  o'  Maister  Richard." 

This  last  qualifying  clause  was  intended  as  a 
salve  for  Miss  Lucys  feelings,  whom,  he  more  than 
suspected  of  nursing  a  strong  partiality  for  the 
cantie  Laird  of  Woodbourne,  and  in  whose  ears  his 
praise  of  the  captivating  cavalier  Carleton  might 
have  an  invidious  bearing.  But  the  conscious  dam 
sel,  lilting  forth  a  merry  chorus,  frisked  away 
beyond  earshot  ere  he  completed  the  sentence,  and 


WOODBOURXE.  133 

left  the  good  gentleman  to  chuckle  over  his  thread 
bare  joke  as  he  ambled  along  the  road  to  Wood- 
bourne. 

As  we  have  intimated,  the  expected  advent  of 
Mr.  Waddell  was  looked  forward  to  as  an  event  of 
uncommon  interest, .  inasmuch  as  his  preaching  there 
would  be  the  very  first  occasion  that  a  minister 
other  than  one  of  the  Episcopal  persuasion  had 
dispensed  the  bread  of  grace  to  perishing  souls  in 
that  vicinity.  What  gave  it  additional  importance 
was  the  fact  that  the  rector  of  the  parish,  who 
was  a  model  of  piety  and  good  sense,  then  rarely 
to  be  found  among  the  regular  custodians  of  ths 
public  conscience  in  Virginia,  had  given  formal 
notice  from  the  pulpit  the  Sunday  before  that,  God 
willing,  the  Rev.  James  Waddell,  of  the  Hanover 
Presbytery,  would  hold  services  in  that  church  on 
next  Sabbath,  and  earnestly  invoked  the  attendance 
of  the  people  on  his  brother's  ministrations.  The 
announcement  gave  rise  to  considerable  stir  among 
the  more  strait-laced  members  of  the  congregation, 
especially  Avhen  it  was  known  that  Parson  Smith 
had  taken  upon  himself,  without  consulting  the 
wishes  of  the  vestry,  to  tender  the  use  of  ths 
church  to  a  person  who  had  been  denominated,  in 
the  choice  language  of  another  clergyman,  "a  pick 
pocket,  dark-lantern,  moonlight  preacher  and  enthusi 
ast,"  and  ignominiously  threatened  with  the  whipping 
post  if  he  persisted  in  his  ministerial  avocations.  But 
the  general  sentiment  of  the  community  warmly  sup 
ported  the  liberal  course  of  the  minister  in  charge, 
and  there  was  no  danger  of  Mr.  Waddell's  being  sub- 
is 


134  WOODBOURNE. 

jected  to  the  shameful  indignities  he  had  met  with 
a  few  years  before  in  a  neighboring  parish. 

Latterly,  there  has  been  considerable  pother  in 
certain  quarters  over  the  religious  disturbances  in 
Virginia  during  the  colonial  times.  In  the  calm 
light  of  historical  truth,  they  appear  to  be  utterly 
insignificant,  excepting  in  so  far  as  they  serve  to 
throw  light  upon  the  condition  of  the  Established 
Church,  and  upon  the  character  and  conduct  of 
its  ministry.  They  were  a  contemptible  afterpiece, 
following  the  terrible  drama  of  persecution  in 
Europe. 

There  is  no  telling,  to  be  sure,  to  what  extent 
the  mischief  might  have  been  carried  had  it  not 
been  for  the  discretion  and  forbearance  which  usually 
marked  the  deportment  of  the  non-conforming  min 
isters,  and  the  wisdom  and  firmness  of  the  meas 
ures  which  were  taken  by  Governor  Gooch  to  insure 
the  observance  of  the  Act  of  Toleration  in  its  true 
spirit  and  intention.  The  established  clergy,  for  the 
most  part,  clamorously  asserted  their  claim  to 
exclusive  jurisdiction  in  ecclesiastical  affairs,  and 
strove  in  every  way  to  nullify  the  operation  of  the 
law.  The  pope,  says  Selden,  is  infallible  as  long  as 
he  has  the  power  to  be  obeyed.  The  parsons  had  no 
trouble  in  supporting  their  dangerous  pretensions  as 
long  as  they  were  aided  and  abetted  by  the  civil 
authorities;  but  when  that  prop  gave  way,  as  was 
soon  the  case,  the  flimsy  structure  toppled  to  the 
ground  never  to  rise  again  in  its  pristine  proportions. 
No  possible  good  can  come  of  the  attempt  to  revive 
the  discussion  of  these  discreditable  proceedings, 
which  have  been  made  the  handle  of  so  much 


WOODBOUKNE.  135 

unjust  reproach  and  ungenerous  criticism  of  the 
Episcopal  Church  in  Virginia.  By  common  consent, 
they  are  now  ascribed  by  all  fair-minded  persons 
to  their  real  cause,  which  was  found  in  the  depravity 
and  weakness  of  many  of  those  who  wore  the  sacred 
surplice,  and  who,  in  their  daily  walk  and  conver 
sation,  were  anything  else  than  examples  of  what 
they  were  sent  to  preach.  Looking  back  upon  the 
events  of  that  stirring  period,  this  feeble  effort  of 
a  handful  of  unpopular  ecclesiastics  to  stem  the 
tide  of  free  inquiry  which  was  sweeping  over  the 
land,  excites  in  our  breast  only  a  passing  emotion 
of  ridicule  and  contempt. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


HAT  is  Clifton  yon  see  yonder/'  said  Allo- 
way  to  his  friend,  as  they  were  riding  over 
the  farm,  and  having  reached  an  elevated 
plateau  near  the  river,  had  halted  to  enjoy 
the  wide  and  delightful  prospect  which  the  spot 
afforded.  Only  a  portion  of  the  front  of  the  house 
could  be  seen,  but  that  was  sufficient  to  give  an 
adequate  conception  of  the  stateliness  of  the  massive, 
reddish-brown  edifice,  which  occupied  the  sum 
mit  of  the  lofty  promontory,  formed  by  the  conflu 
ence  of  the  two  main  branches  of  the  N river. 

It  is  somewhat  a  fashion  to  speak  of  the  bravest 
of  the  old  colonial  residences  in  Virginia  as  baro 
nial — a  term  which  is  calculated  by  an  obvious 
association  of  ideas  to  convey  the  impression  of  an 
imposing  array  of  battlemented  towers,  frowning 
buttresses,  and  like  insignia  of  feudal  pomp  and 
power.  Assuredly  the  proud  family  seat  of  the 
Littleton's  was  as  richly  deserving  of  aristocratic 
designation  as  any  quadrangular  pile  of  imported 
bricks  in  the  colony,  both  by  reason  of  its  intrinsic 
excellence,  and  of  the  dignity  of  its  several  owners. 
Still  Clifton  was  by  no  means  baronial  in  the  sense 
in  which  the  expression  is  ordinarily  understood, 

(136) 


WOODBOURNE.  137 

having  no  sign  nor  token  within  or  without  of  the 
lordly  majesty  which  strikes  terror  to  the  soul  of 
the  beholder.  True,  the  magnificent  Lombardy  pop 
lars,  ranged  in  a  row  and  towering  so  straight  and 
tall  that  their  heads  pierced  the  blue  vault  above 
them,  might,  to  a  romantic  imagination,  easily  pass 
for  so  many  faithful  sentinels  keeping  watch  and 
ward  over  the  grisly  stronghold  of  some  uncouth 
giant;  but,  as  the  prosy  fact  was,  they  simply  served 
the  double  purpose  of  decorating,  with  a  tasteful 
display  of  exotic  ornamentation,  the  curtilage  of  a 
substantial  Virginian  manor,  and  of  furnishing  a 
noted  landmark  for  the  pilots  of  the  various  crafts 
that  plied  up  and  down  the  Potomac.  Its  dimen^ 
sions  alone  excepted,  Clifton  differed  in  nothing 
from  its  less  pretentious  and  unbaronial  neighbor, 
Bonhill,  by  which  it  was  confronted  from  the  oppo 
site  bank  of  the  river. 

The  Littletons  are  a  very  ancient  and  eminently 
respectable  family.  No  African  explorer  ever  took 
greater  pains  to  find  the  true  sources  of  the  "watery 
Nile "  than  we  have  done  in  trying  to  trace  the 
lineage  of  the  Littletons  to  its  fountain  head.  Their 
antiquity  has  completely  baffled  our  chronological 
investigations,  and  the  reader  must  perforce  be  con 
tent  with  the  traditionary  assurance  that  our  Lit 
tletons  are  genuine  scions  of  the  race  which  came 
out  of  one  of  the  innumerable  cells  in  the  pro 
lific  hive  of  nations  at  a  period  the  memory  of  man 
runneth  not  to  the  contrary,  and  that  they  became 
illustrious  in  more  ways  than  one  in  the  ups  and 
downs,  and  ins  and  outs,  of  English  history.  This 
much  may,  however,  be  set  down  with  positive  cer- 

12* 


138  WOODBOURXE. 

tainty  as  an  episode  which  appropriately  belongs  to 
our  veracious  chronicle.  An  ancestor  of  the  \^ir- 
ginia  Littletons  was  particularly  distinguished  for 
his  devotion  to  the  royal  cause  in  the  great  revo 
lution,  and  was  claimed  to  have  been  the  sole, 
ingenious  contriver  of  the  wonderful  machinations 
which  afterwards  enabled  the  fugitive  son  of  the 
unhappy  martyr  -to  elude  the  vigilance  of  his  im 
placable  pursuers.  This  infatuated  "loyalist"'  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  stern  Protector,  who  grimly 
nodded,  and  off  went  his  head.  But  on  the  resto 
ration  of  the  monarchy,  his  son  received  the  pos 
thumous  recompense  of  loyalty  in  the  shape  of  a 
huge  slice  of  the  virgin  soil  of  the  Old  Dominion. 
A  cool  way  that  Absolute  Lord  and  Proprietary 
Universal  had  of  cutting  "whangs  out  o'  ither 
folk's  leather,"  as  it  no  doubt  appeared  to  the 
untutored  mind  of  Mr.  Pope's  poor  Indian — 

"Whose  soul  proud  science   never  taught  to  stray 
Far  as  the  solar  walk  or  milky^  way,'' 

and  who,  for  lack  of  astronomical  knowledge,  had  for 
feited  every  right  to  terrestrial  possessions.  Possibly 
he  will  be  duly  compensated  in  that  "equal  sky," 
to  which  he  has  been  condescendingly  admitted  by 
the  gracious  Muse.  In  this  case,  the  grateful  ben 
eficiary  of  royal  munificence  entered  at  once  into 
his  vast  territorial  domain,  and  we  do  not  learn 
that  there  was  ever  a  joinder  on  the  mise  to  test 
the  validity  of  old  Eowly's  letters-patent. 

In  the  after  troubles  which  put  an  everlasting 
quietus  on  the  unfortunate  house  of  Stuart,  the 
Virginia  Littletons  remained  at  heart  faithful  to 


WOODBOUKXE.  139 

the  cause  of  their  benefactors,  and  being  at  a  safe 
distance  from  the  theatre  of  strife,  they  were  suf 
fered  to  vent  their  loyal  indignation  without  let  or 
hindrance,  so  long  as  they  abstained  from  commit 
ting  the  overt  act  of  treason  against  the  reigning 
dynasty.  No  friendly  remonstrance  was  necessary, 
it  would  seem,  to  keep  them  in  the  bounds  of  cau 
tious  circumspection.  The  bloody  fate  of  their 
unlucky  ancestor  was  an  efficient  warning  never 
again  to  lose  sight  of  the  favorite  Littleton  maxim, 
"Nullum  Numen  abest,  si  sit  Prudent ia"  And 
whilst  their  lips  overflowed  with  cheap  professions 
of  unalterable  attachment  to  their  first  and  only 
love,  they  took  good  care  to  withhold  their  contri 
bution  of  the  material  aid  and  comfort  of  purse 
and  sword,  without  which  there  was  about  as  much 
likelihood  of  the  deposed  Stuarts  regaining  their  lost 
crown  as  there  is  for  any  one  of  the  present  gen 
eration  of  American  sovereigns  to  wield  the  sceptre 
of  the  "coming  empire." 

This  harmless  zeal  for  a  lost  cause  descended  as 
a  muniment  of  title  from  father  to  son  along  with 
the  estate,  and  hence  we  find  in  the  present  pro 
prietor,  Col.  Eobert  Littleton,  an  uproarious  Jaco 
bite  in  politics,  and  in  religion,  what  was  next  of 
kin  to  a  papist,  an  inveterate  highflyer,  the  proto 
type  of  the  latter-day  ritualist.  With  him  the  Stuart 
mania  was  a  sort  of  hereditary  disease,  which  colored 
and  shaped  every  portent  of  the  political  heavens. 
He  was  perpetually  flying  kites  "over  the  river  to 
Charley,"  and  it  was  the  most  provoking  thing  in 
the  world  to  him  that  all  his  neighbors  did  not 
religiously  believe  with  him,  that  the  restoration  of 


140  WOODBOURXE. 

his  favorites  would  prove  a  panacea  for  every  con 
ceivable  ill  that  could  afflict  the  commonwealth  of 
mankind.  And  he  is  far  from  being  the  only 
instance  in  history  of  such  blind  idolatry — such 
insane  worship  of  graven  images.  At  last,  however, 
as  we  are  credibly  informed,  he  was  entirely  cured 
of  his  innate  disorder.  After  the  victory  of  York- 
town  the  conviction  suddenly  dawned  upon  him 
that  the  declaration  of  the  United  Colonies  meant 
what  it  said — a  plague  on  both  your  houses.  Then 
the  cherished  vision  melted  into  thin  air;  he  sub 
mitted  graciously  to  the  irreversible  decree,  aban 
doned  the  land  of  his  forefathers  to  its  ignomini 
ous  fate,  joined  heartily  in  the  universal  "all  hail" 
to  the  rising  star  of  the  Western  Hemisphere,  and 
became  in  the  end  a  blatant  disciple  of  the 
most  advanced  school  of  progressive  democracy.  But 
we  anticipate. 

Notwithstanding  his  objectionable  politics,  Col. 
Eobert  Littleton  was  generally  esteemed  among  his 
neighbors  for  possessing  in  a  marked  degree  the 
amiable  traits,  rough  and  ready  manners,  and  really 
hospitable  disposition,  which  characterized  his  ideal 
standard  of  excellence  in  an  opulent  country  gen 
tleman,  as  he  is  portrayed  to  the  life  in  Fielding's 
inimitable  page.  There  was  one  insuperable  obstacle 
in  the  way  of  Col.  Littleton  in  his  attempt  to  play 
the  part  of  his  illustrious  pattern  and  exemplar 
with  complete  success.  He  had  no  foils  to  set  off 
to  advantage  the  salient  points  of  imaginary  resem 
blance.  The  estimable  schoolmaster,  who  had  taken 
his  degrees  at  the  University  of  Glasgow,  and  who 
was  a  Presbyterian  of  the  straitest  sect,  had  his 


WOODBOUENE.  141 

own  orthodox  notions  concerning  the  unalterable 
rule  of  right  and  the  eternal  fitness  of  things,  and 
the  S3  he  inculcated,  with  equal  impartiality  and  due 
regard  for  the  scriptural  injunction,  on  the  deli 
cate  sprigs  of  the  house  of  Littleton  and  the 
unkempt  offspring  of  the  commune  pecus.  And  so 
far  from  favoring  the  soi-disant  squires'  pretentious  to 
be  considered  the  royal  vice-gerent  of  the  parish 
in  ecclesiastical  matters,  good  Parson  Smith  never 
once  thought  of  consulting  him  in  reference  to  the 
text  or  duration  of  the  hebdomadal  discourse,  nor 
of  inquiring  into  the  nature  of  the  dreams  that 
hovered  above  his  cushioned  dormitory  in  the 
chancel.  Yet  he  not  only  sent  his  sons  regularly 
every  five  days  in  the  week  to  the  old-field  school, 
which  was  presided  orer  by  the  heretical  Orbilius, 
but  maintained  the  most  amicable  relations  with 
the  minister,  paying  his  dues  punctually  in  good 
current  tobacco,  and  quite  satisfied  with  descanting 
on  the  affairs  of  the  Church  at  each  stated  vestry 
meeting.  For  the  rest,  Squire  Littleton,  as  he  came 
at  last  to  be  dubbed  by  the  commonalty,  dispensed 
a  generous  hospitality  in  his  own  house,  was  no 
laggard  in  partaking  of  the  good  cheer  of  his 
neighbors,  and  bore  his  full  share  in  every  project 
which  was  put  forward  to  promote  the  general  wel 
fare  of  the  community. 

The  master  of  Clifton  is  a  widower,  his  wife 
being  dead  years  ago.  His  household  is  presided 
over  by  Miss  Theodora  Littleton,  who  is  so  much 
older  than  her  brother  that  she  may  be  said  to 
have  reached  the  indefinable  age  at  which  the  most 
sanguine  of  superannuated  maidens  become  reconciled 


142  WOODBOURXE. 

to  the  harsh  allotment,  which  condemns  them  to 
wither  on  the  virgin  thorn  in  unpitied  desolation. 
Of  this  pattern  of  spinsters,  we  have  only  one  other 
remark  to  make  before  she  drifts  out  of  sight  like 
a  sobby  log  on  the  swift  running  stream  of  our 
eventful  story.  She  was,  from  all  accounts,  an 
admirable  housekeeper,  considering  that  she  never 
had  a  house  of  her  own  to  keep,  swayed  the  rod 
of  domestic  empire  with  a  firm  and  even  hand, 
and  devoted  the  hours  she  had  to  spare  from  the 
cares  of  office  to  the  ungrateful  task  of  endeavor 
ing  to  inspire  her  willful  niece  Avith  an  apprecia 
tion  of  the  tastes  and  fashions  which  obtained  a 
quarter  of  a  century  before  the  young  lady  was 
born.  To  Miss  Mary  Littleton,  "queen-rose  of  the 
rose-bud  garden  of  girls,''  our  devoirs  will  be  paid 
in  due  season.  The  only  other  inmate  of  the  man 
sion  at  present  is  the  stranger  guest,  whose  arrival 
seems  to  have  created  no  little  commotion  in  the 
usually  quiet  neighborhood.  Col.  Littleton  has 
another  daughter,  who  is  married,  and  lives  in  the 
vicinity  of  Doughoregan  Manor,  in  the  Province  of 
Maryland,  and  two  sons,  who  are  off  somewhere  at 
school. 

During  this  interesting  digression,  Carleton  has 
had  ample  leisure  for  an  exhaustive  survey  of  the 
premises.  From  looking  at  the  old  house,  his  eye 
roves  pleasantly  over  the  fascinations  of  the  sur 
rounding  scene.  Presently  he  appears  to  be  gazing 
intently  at  some  object  on  the  water  in  front  of 
him.  It  was  the  veriest  mite  of  a  row-boat,  which 
a  boy,  with  deft  and  graceful  strokes,  was  making 
to  fly  over  the  water  with  amazing  rapidity. 


WOODBOURNE.  143 

"There  goes  your  young  sportsman,  Dick,"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  replied  Alloway,  "that  is  Archie,  with  his 
inseparable  rifle;  but  I  was  looking  at  that  fellow" 
yonder  in  the  skiff — a  sailor  evidently.  He  must  bo- 
one  of  the  Katrine's  crew;  what  can  he  want 
here?" 

The  man's  appearance  was  eccentric,  not  to  say 
suspicious.  He  was  creeping  cautiously  along  under 
the  shadow  of  the  boughs  which  overhung  the 
stream,  as  if  anxious  to  screen  himself  from  obser 
vation,  and  was  plainly  watching  the  movements  of 
the  other  little  craft.  While  Alloway  was  speaking, 
the  latter  was  headed  for  the  landing  at  Clifton, 
seeing  which,  the  man  ran  the  skiff  ashore,  and, 
jumping  out,  disappeared  in  the  wood. 

"  Deserted  from  his  majesty's  service  afloat,  is  what 
that  means,  Dick,"  said  Carleton. 

"Very  likely,"  replied  Alloway.  "Hallo,  Harry, 
there  they  are,"  pointing,  as  he  spoke,  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Clifton.] 

A  momentary  glance  revealed  two  figures  on  horse 
back — a  lady  and  gentleman — as  they  dashed  around 
the  great  circle  in  front  of  the  house  and  disap 
peared  in  the  mouth  of  the  splendid  avenue  of 
native  poplars  and  cedars,  which  conducted  them 
out  by  the  main  entrance  on  the  highway. 

"My  fair  cousin,  I  am  pleased  to  see,"  continued 
Mr.  Richard,  in  a  tone  which  was  intended 
to  convey  the  keenest  irony  and  most  superlative 
contempt,  "has  at  last  succeeded  in  finding  a  con 
genial  companion  in  her  equestrian  excursions.  She 
will  not  have  a  chance  to  decline  the  civility  from 
me  in  a  hurrv,  will  she  Don  ? "  (patting  the  sym- 


144  WOODBOURXE. 

pathizing  sorrel  caressingly  on  the  neck).  "  Come, 
Harry,  let  us  go." 

Running  his  eyes  again  hurriedly  over  the  sur 
rounding  scene,  Carleton,  gathering  up  the  reins, 
turned  and  followed  his  companion. 

"It  is  a,  humiliating  confession,  Dickon,  my  boy,'' 
said  he,  taking  up  the  disagreeable  topic.  "The 
Chevalier  Conrad  has  the  insidt  track  of  us  coun 
try  bumpkins.  Of  course  they  Avill  be  of  the  party 
at"  Bonhill  to-night  ?  " 

"Having  been  asked,"  replied  Dick,  mechanically, 
"  I  know  of  no  reason  why  they  should  not  go." 

"Then,"  said  Carleton,  "I  mean  to  tax  my  wits 
to  the  utmost  but  what  I  will  learn  all  that  is 
to  be  known  about  this  gay  prince  Florizel,  who 
comes  masquerading  here,  to  the  dismay  of  the 
native  chivalry." 

"You  can  do  as  you  like,"  replied  Dick;  "for 
my  part,  I  wish  Miss  Littleton  joy  of  her  con 
quest,  and  hope  she  will  have  the  good  taste  not 
to  gratify  your  impertinent  curiosity." 

"Thank  you  kindly,  my  pink  of  good  manners," 
said  Carleton,  acknowledging  the  civil  speech  with 
his  best  bow.  "Then  I  am  to  expect  neither  help 
nor  favor  from  you.  N' imports;  I'll  wage  the  fight 
single-handed  and  alone,  and  the  honor  of  the  victory 
will  be  wholly  mine.  But  why  are  you  so  ven 
omously  spiteful  towards  your  cousin  Mary?  Every 
body  says  she  is  very  beautiful,  and  many  sensible 
people  have  told  me  it  was  next  to  impossible  to 
resist  her  fascinating  ways." 

Dick. — "Did  you  never  see  her?'' 

Harry. — "  Yes ;  once  when  we  were  both  mere 
children  I  remember  ffoinff  with  mv  mother  on  a 


WOODBOURXE.  145 

visit  to  Clifton ;  she  was  then  a  little  brown,  hazel- 
eyed  chit  in  a  pinafore  and  pantalettes,  and,  us  I 
thought,  with  a  considerable  touch  of  the  tiger  in 
her  composition.  We  had  a  pitched  battle  over  my 
whip-top,  and  she  used  her  claws  to  such  good  pur 
pose  that  my  face  and  hands  smart  at  the  men 
tion  of  it  to  this  day.  From  which  early  experience 
of  her  mettle,  I  would  hazard  the  opinion  that 
Miss  Littleton,  is,  at  all  events,  a  decidedly  plucky 
girl  in  addition  to  her  personal  charms." 

Dick  (frowning  majestically). — "  She  certainly  does 
not  lack  for  beauty,  and  is,  morever,  as  they  say, 
very  brilliant  in  conversation,  manners,  and  all  that; 
nevertheless,  I  believe  she  is  an  artful,  designing, 
heartless  coquette." 

Harry. — "An  artful,  designing,  heartless  coquette! 
You  shock  me  beyond  expression — 

'* '  With  every  pleasing,   every  prudent  part, 

Say,  what  does  Chloe  want?    S'ae  wants  a  heart!' 

A  sad  want  truly.  "Who  reigns  o'er  hearts,  should 
surely  have  .a  heart,  and  a  big  one  at  that.  This 
is  a  terrible  accusation  you  bring  against  the  'famed 

Belinda'    of    "W shire.     Are    you    prepared    with 

the  proofs?  Where  are  the  horrid  witnesses  of  her 
inhuman  cruelty?  Where  the  bleached  bones  of  the 
wretched  victims  whom  this  syren  has  lured  to 
their  untimely  doom?  Come,  I  insist  on  your  at 
once  producing  the  corpus  delicti,  as  the  lawyers 
say,  else  the  lady  is  acquitted,  and  you  stand  in 
the  pillory  for  rank  perjury.  What,  dumb  as  an 
oyster?  It  is  then  even  as  I  conjectured — you  can't 
show  so  much  as  the  metacarpal  of  a  milk-sop 
who  has  been  brained  with  my  lady's  fan." 

13 


146  WOODBOLKNE. 

The  whole  of  this  humorous  sally  was  lost  on 
Mr.  Eichard  Alloway;  he  had,  in  the  middle  of  it, 
taken  to  whistling  after  his  peculiarly  dolorous 
fashion,  hot  indeed,  like  the  love-lorn  lout,  for  want 
of  thought,  but  as  a  running  accompaniment  to 
certain  unpleasant  cogitations. 

"Since  she  is  disposed  of,"  he  said,  musingly, 
"I  wonder  who  of  the  lovely  dears  will  next  set 
up  for  a  reigning  belle  on  the  stock-in-trade  of 
her  ladyship's  laving  »,  to  borrow  Mike's  expression. 
Mike  Avas  one  day  giving  me  a  graphic  description 
of  the  heartless  exactions  of  some  of  the  landed 
gentry  in  Ireland.  '  Och,  Misther  Dick,'  said  he, 
'they  be  like  the  locusses  of  Aigypt  that  Miss- 
thress  Murchieson  (who  is  Mike's  better  half)  was 
rading  to  me  about  out  of  the  Good  Book;  they 
ates  up  everything  as  clane  as  the  deck  of  a  man- 
o'-war,  and  gives  the  lavings  to  the  poor.' " 

Carleton   laughed. 

"Pray,  who  is  this  Mike  I  have  heard  you  quote 
so  often?"  he  asked. 

"Mike  Burke,"  cried  Alloway,  seizing  upon  the 
diverting  theme  with  surprising  avidity.  "Is  it  pos 
sible  I  have  never  told  you  of  my  Milesian  treas 
ure,  the  most  waggishly  humorous  and  irresistibly 
droll  of  the  blundering  tribe  of  St.  Patrick.  Let 
me  see,  hang  me,  if  I  know  much  more  of  Mike's 
juvenile  days  than  I  do  of — ," 

"The  black-eyed  troubador's,"  said  Carleton  smil 
ing,  as  he  pointed  over  his  shoulder  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Clifton. 

"The  devil,"  quoth  Dick.  "However,  its  of  no 
consequence;  he  was  sufficiently  well  accredited  when 


WOODBOU113TE.  147 

he  came  here,  and  has  since  given  hostages  for  his 
future  good  behavior.  It  was  I  who  got  him  his 
wife.  Mike,  you  must  know,  is  a  sailor,  a  genuine 
old,  weather-beaten  son  of  Neptune,  with  a  hand  of 
iron,  and  a  heart — I  was  about  to  say  of  oak,  but 
I  know  it  to  be  as  soft  as  a  woman's.  There  is 
no  place  from  China  to  Peru  he  has  not  visited; 
he  was  with  Captain  Byron  in  his  last  cruise,  and 
sailed  with  Captain  Cook  in  his  first  voyage  around 
the  world;  and  you  should  hear  him  tell  of  the 
wonders  he  saw  'ayont  the  antipodes.'  But  don't 
intimate  a  doubt  of  his  veracity  if  you  value  his 
friendship.  Well,  he  was  picked  up  somewhere  by 
the  skipper  of  the  Katrine,  with  whom  he  made 
one  or  two  '  trips — I  forget  exactly  how  many — to 
Virginia.  In  one  of  these  flying  visits  he  saw, 
loved  and  courted  in  true  sailor  style,  the  buxom 
widow  Murchieson,  whose  late  husband  had  been  a 
tenant  of  Mr.  Graeme,  and  may  be  his  Scotch  red- 
cousin  in  the  eleventh  degree.  The  widow  liked 
Mike  well  enough  to  marry  him,  but  unluckily 
she,  in  a  gush  of  sorrowful  good  nature,  promised 
her  deceased  spouse  that  she  would  not  take  that 
perilous  leap  in  the  dark  a  second  time  without 
having  obtained  the  consent  and  benison  of  Mr. 
Graeme,  and,  for  what  reason  I  could  never  rightly 
comprehend,  the  old  gentleman  positively  forbade 
the  banns,  or  what  amounted  to  the  same  thing, 
he  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  mat 
ter.  Mrs.  Murchieson,  he  said,  was  old  enough  to 
choose  a  husband  for  herself,  and  he  knew  nothing 
whatever,  good  or  bad,  of  this  wandering  Je\v  of 
an  Irishman." 


148  •\VOODBOURNE. 

"  I  am  sure  that  was  reason  a  plenty  for  his 
refusal,"  suggested  Carleton. 

"For  Mr.  Graeme,  yes;  but  it  did  not  satisfy 
me.  I  had  conceived  a  strong  passion  for  Mike, 
and  he  was  so  bent  on  giving  over  his  nomadic, 
sea-faring  life,  and  spending  the  rest  of  his  days 
in  peace  and  quiet  under  the  widow's  tempting 
vine  and  fig  tree,  that  I  got  his  captain  to  go 
with  me  to  see  Mr.  Graeme  and  intercede  in  his 
behalf.  After  considerable  persuasion  on  our  part, 
and  an  earnest  appeal  from  Miss  Lucy,  he  at  length 
relented  and  signed  the  paper  I  had  prepared,  gay- 
ing,  as  he  did  so,  in  his  cautious  manner:  *AYeeI, 
weel,  lads,  Dame  Murchieson  maun  gang  her  ain 
gate,  that  is,  wi'  my  permission,  and  gin  she  finds 
to  her  dool  she  has  forgathered  wi'  a  beggar,  she 
maun  mak'  the  maist  o'  a  bad  bargain ;  she  kens  the 
proverb  well  enough.'  Mike  was  happy,  so  was  the 
widow,  and  from  that  day  we  have  been  fast  friends. 
But  I  have  never  been  able  to  correct  one  bad 
habit  in  Mike.  He  will  persist  in  calling  Mr. 
Graeme  <yer  riverence.'  Doubtless  he  intends  thereby 
the  highest  possible  respect;  but  the  worthy  gen 
tleman  does  not  like  the  idea  of  being  taken  for 
a  papist  priest,  although  he  has  not  the  holy  horror 
of  popery  that  some  people  profess." 

Harry. — "How  has  your  interesting  old  sea-dog 
fared  ashore?" 

Dick. — "Oh,  he  is  a  very  model  of  hen-pecked 
Benedicts.  Like  a  good  many  others  who  have 
weathered  that  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  he  found  the 
land  he  had  reached  was  far  from  being  the  'cloud 
less  Olympus'  of  a  lover's  fancy.  Mrs.  Murchieson, 


WOODBOURtfE.  149 

as  he  still  calls  his  wife,  has  her  little  pilfering 
tempers,  and  when  thoroughly  roused,  her  wrath, 
says  Mike,  is  tenfold  worse  than  the  raging  sea. 
But  he  has  his  boat,  and  the  friendly  river  runs 
close  by  their  cabin,  and  as  soon  as  a  speck  of 
cloud  rises  on  the  domestic  horizon,  he  rushes 
headlong  for  the  beach  and  puts  to  sea,  no  matter 
for  the  weather,  until  the  storm  ashore  has  sub 
sided.  He  informed  me  once,  as  a  great  secret, 
that  he  never  stood  in  so  much  awe  of  but  one  other 
being,  which  was  the  'Admiral,'  as  he  calls  Captain 
Cook,  and  surely  if  rank  and  merit  went  always 
hand  in  hand,  no  man  in  his  majesty's  navy  better 
deserves  the  title.  It  mattered  not  how  hard  the 
wind  blew,  if  the  captain  was  in  a  fret,  the  cross- 
trees,  said  Mike,  was  a  more  comfortable  berth 
than  the  quarter-deck.  The  piping  of  old  Boreas 
in  his  most  frantic  mood  was  delightful  music  in 
comparison  with  the  terrible  clangor  of  the  speaking 
trumpet  in  the  hands  of  this  born  ruler  of  the 
roughest  of  his  race.  But  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  do  justice  to  Mike's  hero.  Have  you  read  the 
account  of  his  marvellous  voyage  ? " 

Harry. — "Only  such  snatches  of  it  as  have  ap 
peared  in  the  public  prints." 

Dick. — "Then  I  have  a  rare  entertainment  in 
store  for  you.  What  say  you  to  a  sail  in  Mike's 
fishing  smack,  and  a  thrilling  chapter  or  so  from 
his  inexhaustible  log-book?" 

Harry. — "I  should  like  it  of  all  things,  next  to 
a  cruise  with  the  great  'Admiral'  himself.  I  agree 
with  you  in  your  estimate  of  Cook's  abilities.  He 
has  not  only  proved  himself  to  be  the  most  daring 

13* 


150  WOODBOURXE. 

and  skillful  navigator  of  the  day,  but  he  has  also 
evinced  the  highest  qualities  of  a  great  naval  com 
mander.  I  wish  we  had  a  dozen  like  him  in  com 
mand  of  as  many  good,  stout  ships  of  war,  we 
would  soon  teach  the  insolent,  self-styled  mistress 
of  the  seas  that  she  has  no  charter  to  ravage  and 
despoil  at  will,  merely  to  make  good  the  prophetic 
anthem  of  her  guardian  angels,  'Britons  shall 
never  be  made  slaves ! '  For  was  it  not  so  written 
in  the  book  of  destiny,  says  or  sings  the  mighty 
bard — 

" '  When  Britain  first  at  heaven's  command, 
Arose  from  out  the  azure  main?' 

And  this  gasconading  twaddle  was  actually  rewarded 
with  the  guerdon  of  a  sycophant's  ambition,  a  sin 
ecure  office  under  government!  Slaves,  did  he  say? 
What  has  he  done  with  the  angelic  creatures,  who 
were  auctioned  off  at  Rome  to  the  highest  bidder?" 

"Those  were  unfortunate  captives,  Harry,"  said 
Dick,  vainly  trying  to  rescue  the  "free-born  Bri 
tons"  from  a  merciless  belaboring.  "Part  of  the 
spolia  opima  of  the  Roman  conqueror." 

"No  such  thing,"  continued  Carleton,  giving  the 
reins  to  his  hobby-horse.  "Either  history  is  a 
colossal  lie,  or  these  same  thrasonical  braggarts  were 
little  better  than  a  nation  of  slaves  from  the  day 
that  Caesar  planted  his  standard  on  their  sacred 
soil  to  that  on  which  the  Norman  despot's  iron  heel 
stamped  out  the  last  lingering  spark  of  liberty,  and 
they  remained  for  centuries  the  pusillanimous  serfs 
and  villains  of  feudal  tyranny.  Besides,  they  have 
meekly  endured  every  phase  of  anarchy  and  revo 
lution,  passed  through  the  flames  of  religious  per- 


WOODBOURXE.  151 

secution,  and  suffered  all  the  calamities  of  lawless 
usurpation  and  grinding  oppression.  And  even  now 
they  are  the  obedient,  submissive  vassals  of  the 
vile  tyrant,  who  seeks  to  bind  us  with  galling 
chains." 

"Breathe  awhile,  Harry/'  said  Dick,  "and  at 
'em  again.  Your  invective  is  superb.  What  does 
Addison  say?  Oh,  I  have  it: 

" '  'Tis  liberty  that  crowns  Brittania's  isle, 

And  makes  her  barren  rocks  and  her  bleak    moun 
tains  smile.' 

Was  I  ranting  in  good  earnest,  Dick?"  inquired 
his  companion,  with  an  innocent  look.  "Oh,  how 
I  do  detest  the  trumpery  fustian  stuff  called  elo 
quence — all  sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothing.  It 
was  Cortez,  I  believe,  who  said  that  some  things 
should  be  done  before  they  were  thought  upon — a 
proper  maxim  for  a  foolhardy,  hair-brained  adven 
turer.  Yet  certain  it  is,  that  over-much  talking 
about  a  matter  of  life  and  death  importance  is  apt 
to  beget  irresolution  and  fatal  delay  in  its  execution. 
Many  a  flighty  purpose  has  gone  careering  to  the 
limbo  of  vanity  on  the  furious  gale  of  windy 
declamation.  Has  not  Patrick  Henry  said  all  that 
can  be  said  on  the  subject?  Then  why  do  not 
our  conscript  Fathers  declare  at  once  for  indepen 
dence,  and  cease  to  talk  about  it?" 

"It  will  require  a  legion  of  light-horse  to  back 
the  declaration,  brave  captain,"  said  Dick. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  impetuous  Carleton;  "and 
they  can  be  had  at  a  minute's  warning.  Every 
man  in  Virginia  will  leap  to  arms  at  the  first 
note  of  that  inspiring  tocsin." 


152  WOODBOURXE. 

There  was  nothing  in  this  eager  outburst  incon 
sistent  with  his  previous  utterances.  He  saw  that 
the  conflict  was  inevitable;  he  anticipated  the  final 
result,  and  his  soul  was  rilled  with  the  sublime 
thought  of  a  young  nation  liberated  from  colonial 
bondage,  and  starting  upon  its  career  of  imperish 
able  glory. 

At  this  stage  of  the  conversation,  our  cavaliers 
were  interrupted  by  a  messenger,  who  came  to  say 
that  Mr.  Graeme  awaited  their  presence  at  the 
house,  and  glad  to  escape  from  their  dangerous 
society,  we  will  invite  the  reader  to  continue  his 
round  of  nmketting  in  more  agreeable  company. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


(HE  lady  and  gentleman  Avhose  appearance 
gave  rise  to  the  foregoing  animadversions 
of  Mr.  Eichard  Alloway,  in  a  little  while 
have  returned  from  their  morning  jaunt 
on  horseback.  But  it  is  all  too  charming — the  luxu 
rious  effulgence  of  the  glorious  autumnal  sky — to 
be  imprisoned  within  doors,  and  they  have  barely 
entered  the  house  before  they  come  forth  again, 
this  time  equipped  for  a  walk.  After  a  turn  or 
two  on  the  spacious  terrace,  and  around  the  grand 
circle,  and  down  the  broad  avenue,  they  are  finally 
discovered  idly  wandering  through  the  groves  and 
glades  of  the  deerless  park  which  skirts  the  lawn 
on  the  side  nearest  to  the  river.  A  gigantic  oak 
has  been  blown  down  in  a  furious  gale  last  sum 
mer.  It  is  clinging  desperately  to  life  by  one  frail 
root,  and  its  proud  head,  now  a  shapeless  mass  of 
ruin,  hangs  helplessly  over  a  dismal  hollow.  To 
the  moralist  it  presented  the  familiar  symbol  of 
dethroned  majesty — of  the  sure  fate  that  overtakes 
alike  the  loftiest  and  lowliest  of  mortal  men.  Other 
wise  rugged  and  forlorn,  to  say  nothing  of  its 
proximity  to  the  deep  and  dark  ravine,  the  spot 

(153) 


154  WOODBOURXE. 

had  none  of  the  attractive  features  of  the  poetical 
trysting-place  of  "Love's  young  dream."  Yet  here 
the  ramblers  pause;  the  gentleman  assists  the  lady 
to  a  seat  on  the  gnarled  trunk  of  the  prostrate 
giant,  and  himself  leans  gracefully  against  a  shat 
tered  limb. 

In  one  respect,  Mr.  Richard  Alloway's  portrait 
of  his  fair  cousin  has  not  exceeded  the  bounds  of 
truthful  delineation.  It  is  the  most  bewitchingly 
beautiful  face  in  the  world  that  is  looking  up  at 
its  companion  out  of  a  wondrous  glory  of  cluster 
ing  brown  curls,  and  it  is  moreover  apparent  to  a 
connoisseur  in  such  matters  that  the  deep,  earnest, 
adoring  expression  of  those  eloquent  eyes  could  not 
possibly  be  counterfeited  by  the  most  consummately 
wicked  of  coquettes.  There  is  no  denying  the  soft 
impeachment — 

Love  in  her  sunny  eyes  doth  basking  play, 
Love  walks  the  pleasant  mazes  of    her  hair, 

Love  does  on  both  her  lips  forever  stray, 
And  sows  and  reaps  a  thousand  kisses  there. 

And  in  her  case,  these  outward  and  visible  tokens 
of  an  inward  and  spiritual  grace  plainly  denoted 
that  love  had  gone  within,  and  nestled  like  a  dove 
in  the  warmest  corner  of  her  heart. 

But,  out  upon  the  "rude  Carinthian  boor"  of  a 
limner,  who  has  done  the  handsome  and  houseless 
stranger  such  unmannerly  despite.  True,  his 
abundant  and  flowing  tresses,  worn  in  contempt  of 
the  prevailing  mode,  are  the  hue  of  the  raven's 
wing,  but  they  shade  a  brow  and  features  that 
are  strikingly  noble,  intelligent  and  attractive,  and 


AVOODBOURXE.  155 

so  far  from  wearing  a  ferocious  or  even  austere 
aspect,  the  full,  black  orbs  have  quenched  their 
fiery  darts  in  a  flood  of  tenderest  lustre,  and  repay 
the  lady  her  loving  gaze  with  usury.  He  is  speak 
ing,  and  although  his  language  is  English,  pure 
and  fluent,  he  makes  no  attempt  to  disguise  the 
marked  accent  which  betrays  his  foreign  nativity. 

"There  is  no  longer  room  for  a  reasonable  doubt 
on  the  subject,"  said  he,  pursuing  a  theme  in 
which  he  was  intensely  interested.  "Your  late 
cousin,  Mr.  Richard  Austin,  answers  perfectly  to 
the  description  of  our  incognito.  No  wonder  the 
Abbe's  usual  penetration  failed  him  here — he  had 
no  earthly  ground  to  suspect  that  the  object  of 
his  search  was  all  that  time  hiding  from  his  most 
intimate  friends.  It  was  his  nephew,  you  tell  me, 
with  whom  I  had  the  pleasant  encounter  of  the 
fox  hunt?  I  should  not  have  divined  the  relation 
ship  from  any  external  resemblance  to  the  original 
of  the  picture,  as  drawn  by  the  master  of  the 
Grande  Chartreuse — the  one  a  frail,  delicate,  pale- 
eyecl,  silver-toned  and  morbidly  sensitive  student; 
the  other,  a  stout,  hirsute,  bold  and  devil-may-care 
sportsman,  with  the  brawn  of  a  Milo,  and  the  lungs 
of  a  Stentor." 

The  lady  smiled. 

?'It  would,  indeed,  be  difficult,"  she  replied,  "to 
find  two  near  kinsmen  more  utterly  dissimilar  in 
personal  appearance.  But  you  wrong  my  cousin 
Richard  if  you  imagine  he  is  only  the  stature, 
bulk,  and  big  assemblance  of  a  man.  He  is  a 
noble-hearted,  brave  and  generous  fellow,  if  lie  has 
of  late  taken  up  a  most  unaccountable  dislike  of 
me." 


156  WOODBOURXE. 

"And  thereby  established  his  claim  to  my  regard," 
said  Conrad,  laughingly.  "I  readily  forgive  him 
his  making  merry  over  my  ridiculous  misadventure; 
it  served  me  right  for  coming  in  at  the  fag  end 
of  the  chase  to  try  to  rob  him  of  his  well-earned 
laurels.  But  his  behavior  in  the  other  case — " 

"  Nay,"  cried  Miss  Littleton,  in  the  same  ban 
tering  tone,  "I  reject  your  championship.  Leave 
me  to  fight  my  own  battles  with  this  great  giant, 
and  you  will,  in  no  time,  behold  a  bloodless  tri 
umph,  no  love  lost,  and  no  bones  broken.  After 
all,  it  was  a  trifling  matter  to  quarrel  about,  and 
if  he  is  as  heartily  ashamed  of  it  as  I  am,  there 
will  be  no  trouble  in  bringing  about  a  speedy  res 
toration  of  our  former  amicable  relations.  On  due 
reflection,  I  am  convinced  that  I  was  the  party 
most  at  fault.  There  can  be  no  excuse  for  the 
rude  and  scornful  manner  in  which  I  repudiated 
his  well-meant  intercession  in  a  dear  friend's  behalf. 
A  woman  is  apt  to  exaggerate  offences  when  she 
is  conscious  of  imprudence  in  giving  occasion  for 
invidious  criticism.  I  remember  being  exceedingly 
indignant  with  him  at  the  time,  and  I  did  not 
scruple  to  berate  him  soundly  for  having  been  the 
cause  of  a  painful  misunderstanding  with  the 
Graemes,  to  whom  I  was  really  attached." 

"Did  he  accuse  you  flatly  of  having  jilted  Mr. 
George  Graeme?"  asked  Conrad. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mary,  "or  at  least  his  language 
implied  as  much,  and  besides,  he  called  me  a  lit 
tle  fury,  and,  I  verily  believe,  he  wished  I  had 
been  a  man,  that  he  might  take  me  to  personal 
account.  To  be  sure,  he  apologized  for  his  angry 


WOODBOUHNE.  157 

conduct,  but  I  was  so  much  incensed  at  the  thought 
of  a  rupture  with  my  friends  at  Bonhill,  the  result 
of  his  awkward  intermeddling,  that  I  repulsed  his 
overtures,  and  thus  the  matter  stands  open  between 
us  at  present.  Unfortunately  for  me,  the  reputed 
victim  of  my  artful  wiles  was  gone  away  to  Scot 
land,  and  so  Dame  Gossip  had  everything  her  own 
way.  But  worst  affliction,  I  had  to  endure  my 
good  aunt's  interminable  lectures ;  for,  strange  to 
say,  •  she  obstinately  refused  to  listen  to  one  word 
of  explanation  from  me,  and  charged  my  delin 
quencies,  as  she  was  pleased  to  call  them,  to  the 
account  of  setting  at  naught  her  wholesome  admo 
nitions.  In  such  a  desperate  strait,  there  was  no 
recourse  left  me  but  to  fly  for  shelter  to  my  sister 
in  Maryland." 

"In  which  hegira  from  persecution,  you  have 
furnished  another  striking  illustration  of  the  pro 
verb  which  has  been  so  often  exemplified  in  my 
humble  career,  *L'ffomni5  propose  ct  Dieu  dispose,'" 
exclaimed  the  passionate  lover. 

"  Take  care  how  you  bless  your  stars  on  the 
event,"  replied  the  wayward  damsel,  with  a  saucy 
glance,  "  for,  if  report  be  true,  you  have  this  time 
experienced  the  truth  of  a  different  adage  alto 
gether,  and  only  caught  a  Tartar  for  your  pains. 
There,  let  go  my  hand  and  behave  like  a  rational 
being.  And,  since  you  are  in  the  sentimental  vein, 
tell  me  a  pretty  love  story  out  of  your  book  of 
romantic  chronicles,  and,  in  return,  I  will  impro 
vise  you  an  Indian  legend." 

"Another  time,  under  favor,  my  gracious  queen," 
gaid  Conrad.  "You  forget  I  have  an  appointment 

14 


158  WOODBOURNE. 

with  the  Abbe,  which  I  must  on  no  account  fail 
to  keep." 

"It  had  indeed  escaped  me,"  replied  Mary,  look 
ing  grave.  "Are  you  compelled  to  go  this  after 
noon?" 

Conrad. — "I  am;  the  business  between  us  admits 
of  no  delay." 

Mary. — "How  very  provoking.  I  had  set  my 
heart  on  your  going  to  Bonhill  to-night,  and  being 
introduced  to  the  company  by  your  proper  name 
and  title." 

Conrad. — "I  fear  you  will  be  deprived  of  that 
gratification.  What  is  the  distance,  to  Yeocomico, 
the  place  at  which  I  am  to  meet  the  Abbe?" 

Mary. — "Scarcely  an  hour's  ride.  What  is  that 
noise  ?  " 

There  was  a  strange  rustling  sound  among  the 
leaves  of  the  fallen  oak,  although  there  was  not  a 
breath  of  wind  astir. 

"Only  a  bird,"  said  Conrad,  replying  to  her 
look  of  alarm. 

The  explanation  was  plausible,  but  it  did  not 
allay  Miss  Littleton's  suspicions.  As  the  conversa 
tion  proceeded,  she  was  repeatedly  observed  to  cast 
uneasy  glances  in  the  direction  whence  the  sound 
proceeded. 

"  Suppose  now,"  she  went  on  to  say,  "  that  I 
were  to  insist  upon  your  deferring  this  visit  until 
to  morrow  morning  ?  " 

"Pardonnez-moi,  ma  belle  amie,"  replied  her  com 
panion;  "but  it  is  not  a  supposable  matter.  You 
are  aware  that  the  ship  is  ready  to  put  to  sea 
with  the  first  favorable  gale  after  midnight,  and  I 


WOODBOURNE.  159 

am  no  more  a  Prospero  than  you  are  a  Lapland 
witch  or  other  kind  of  contraband  dealer  in  con 
trary  winds.  Besides,  the  excellent  father  makes 
free  use  of  the  imperative  mood  in  his  missive, 
and  we  have  a  great  many  things  to  talk  over. 
Of  course  I  shall  be  required  to  answer  for  my 
dealings  with  a  certain  incorrigible  little  heretic, 
and  what  have  I  to  urge  in  my  defence?  Abso 
lutely  nothing.  Only  a  miracle  of  grace  can  save 
me  from  the  awful  expiation  of  an  auto-da-fe.  The 
Abbe  is  a  master  of  the  art  of  persuasion,  but 
even  his  eloquence  would  be  lost  on  such  an  ob 
stinate  rebel.  Convert  her!  He  may  as  well  go 
with  good  St.  Anthony  and  preach  salvation  tot 
the  fishes." 

At  this  audacious  speech  the  young  lady  bridled 
up  with  the  best  imitation  of  offended  dignity  she 
could  muster  on  so  short  a  notice.  There  was  one 
subject  on  which  these  lovers  had  very  prudently 
resolved  mutually  to  exercise  the  largest  amount  of 
the  liberty  of  liberties — videlicet — the  liberty  of  dis 
agreeing.  In  the  archest  manner  imaginable,  and 
with  the  aptest  exhibition  of  ironical  humor,  she 
held  up  a  taper  finger,  on  which  glittered  a  ring 
begemmed  with  costly  jewels. 

"Since  it  is  to  the  confessional  you  are  going, 
my  poor  penitent,"  said  she  with  mock  compas 
sion,  "be  sure  you  carry  the  sin-offering  with 
you;"  then  suddenly  pouting  and  affecting  the  air 
and  tone  of  injured  beauty,  which  has  a  right  to 
be  absurdly  jealous  and  outrageously  exacting,  she 
added  lachrymosely,  "I  believe  you  love  Father 
Soule  better  than  you  do  anybody  else  in  the 
world." 


160  WOODBOUKKE. 

"Not  exactly,"  said  Conrad,  earnestly.  "But  it 
is  quite  probable  I  should  have  been  unworthy  of 
the  love  of  one  body  in  the  world  had  it  not  been 
my  good  fortune  to  have  for  a  mentor,  at  once 
the  best,  the  gentlest  and  the  wisest  of  men.  You 
should  have  heard  what  Mr.  Carroll  said  of  him 
if  you  deem  .  my  encomium  extravagant.  *  Father 
Soule,'  lie  said  to  me  one  day,  in  his  deliberate 
manner,  'approaches,  in  my  estimation,  as  near  to 
being  a  pure  and  perfect  intelligence  as  it  is  pos 
sible  to  conceive  of  in  a  finite  and  fallible  mortal/ 
His  learning  is  only  excelled  by  his  piety,  and 
both  are  unfathomable.  He  is  a  philosopher  with 
out  scepticism,  a  polemic  without  acerbity,  a  priest 
without  bigotry.  The  most  subtle  and  profound  of 
thinkers,  the  most  captivating  of  reasoners,  the 
most  erudite  of  scholars,  the  humblest  of  believers, 
he  is  what  Socrates  might  have  been  had  he  too 
been  a  Christian." 

"A  wonderful  character,  truly,  for  a  Jesuit  priest," 
exclaimed  the  persistent  heretic,  "for  such  I  un 
derstand  is  your  incomparable  guide,  philosopher 
and  friend." 

Conrad  was  now  constrained  to  take  up  the  cud 
gels  for  his  tutor  in  downright  earnest.  "Yes," 
said  he,  "  I  do  not  blush  to  proclaim  it  in  spite 
of  the  late  extraordinary  decree  of  Borne.  He  does 
belong  to  that  illustrious  society  which  has  been 
so  grievously  scandalized  by  the  conduct  of  un 
worthy  members,  and  his  life  has  been  a  shining 
example  of  its  sublime  motto — All  things  for  the 
greater  glory  of  God." 

"And   pray   tell   me,"   retorted   the    fair    disputant, 


WOODBOURNE.  101 

"  whence  came  the  prerogative  of  your  magnificent 
order  to  that  pious  posy?  To  my  thinking,  it  is 
of  the  essence  of  religion  the  world  over  to  ascribe 
all  honor,  praise  and  glory  to  Him  from  whom 
cometh  every  good  and  perfect  gift.  It  is  certainly 
so  taught  in  my  Bible  and  Prayer  Book.  All 
things  for  the  greater  glory  of  God?  Why  it  is 
the  soul  of  Christian  Avorship,  the  burden  of  every 
sacred  missal,  the  universal  doxology  of  devotional 
piety,  and  you  would  appropriate  it  to  adorn  the 
phylactery  of  an  effete  monkish  institution.  That 
will  do,  not  another  syllable,  as  you  are  a  gallant 
gentleman;  I  claim  the  privilege  of  my  sex,  the 
last  word.  You  began  the  dispute  without  warning, 
I  will  put  an  end  to  it  with  equal  abruptness. 
You  have  neglected  to  say  whether  or  not  my 
poor  cousin's  death  necessitates  an  alteration  in 
your  plans." 

"That  will  be  as  the  good  father  will  decide," 
replied  Conrad,  now  all  meek  submission. 

"And  has  not  the  good  father's  dutiful  son  any 
opinion  of  his  own  on  so  vital  a  subject?" 

"He-Men!  It  is  really  my  poor  opinion  to  which 
your  ladyship  attaches  so  great  value."  Then  grow-- 
ing  suddenly  serious,  he  proceeded.  "  The  plan  of 
procedure  shall  not  be  changed  in  a  single  par 
ticular  with  my  consent.  The  proofs,  to  be  sure, 
are  not  sufficient  in  law;  there  is  one  link  missing, 
in  the  chain  of  evidence  which  only  Mr.  Austin 
could  have  supplied.  But  I  am  not  a  suppliant  of 
British  justice.  I  expect  no  redress  at  the  hands 
of  my  father's  malignant  enemies ;  my  lot  in  thai- 
regard  is  now  irrevocably  fixed ;  henceforth,  for 

14* 


102  AVOODBOUKNE. 

weal  or  woe,  I  am  an  American.  My  private  score 
with  a  sworn  and  implacable  foe  shall  not  turn  me 
from  the  line  of  duty;  he  may  procrastinate  the 
day  of  settlement,  but  as  a  just  God  reigneth,  he 
will  live  to  see  the  consequences  of  his  unnatural 
guilt.  To  morrow  your  father  shall  know  my  whole 
history,  from  which  time  I  shall  assume  my  right 
ful  name,  rank  and  station." 

"Why  not  allow  me  the  privilege  of  telling  it 
all  to  my  friends  this  very  night  ? "  eagerly  in 
quired  Mary  Littleton. 

"So  be  it,"  replied  Conrad,  after  a  moment's  re 
flection.  "  Provided,  of  course,  that  I  get  back  in 
time  to  bear  you  company.  Still  it  is  proper  for 
me  to  inform  Colonel  Littleton  who  I  am,  and  to 
learn  what  he  has  to  say  about  the  after  intro 
duction.  You  must  remember,  too,  there  is  another 
important  matter  about  which  he  is  to  be  con 
sulted." 

The  lady  looked  up  inquiringly,  but  there  was  no 
need  of  explanation ;  the  rosy  flush  which  suffused 
her  cheek  showed  how  truly  she  interpreted  his 
meaning  glance. 

"Does  Father  Soule  approve  your  Bending  this 
letter  to  the  person  they  call  Sir  William  Mark- 
ham  ? "  she  asked,  covering  her  momentary  con 
fusion  by  recurrence  to  the  previous  engrossing 
topic. 

"More  than  that,"  replied  Conrad;  "the  letter 
was  originally  written  at  his  dictation  two  months 
ago.  I  could  not  trust  myself  to  phrase  it  after 
what  had  occurred  between  us."  His  thin  lips 
grew  tremulous  with  suppressed  passion,  and  a 


WOODBOURNE.  163 

sudden  gleam  like  lightning  from  a  passing  sum 
mer  cloud  shot  from  the  speaker's  brilliant  eyes. 
"  The  bloody  reckoning  Avas  not  of  my  seeking ; 
my  mission  to  England  was  for  peace  and  recon 
ciliation,  to  heal  the  gaping  wounds  which  civil 
broils  had  made  in  our  unhappy  house,  and  I  was 
ready  to  make  every  sacrifice  but  one  to  secure 
that  consummation.  Even  now,  my  terms  are  fair, 
honorable  and  just.  If  Sir  William  Markham  again 
rejects  them,  on  his  head  shall  rest  the  guilt  of 
keeping  open  wounds  that  may  rankle  to  the 
death." 

The  vehemence  of  his  manner,  and  his  lofty 
mien,  elate  and  instinct  with  conscious  power  to 
will  and  to  do,  brought  a  bright  glow  of  admira 
tion  to  the  lovely  features  of  his  companion;  but 
before  she  could  frame  a  reply,  the  limbs  of  the 
great  oak  were  violently  shaken,  which  startling 
phenomenon  was  immediately  followed  by  a  dull 
thud  and  the  crackling  sound  of  breaking  twigs, 
as  though  some  heavy  body  had  fallen  to  the 
ground  and  rolled  down  the  side  of  the  ravine. 
Conrad  ran  to  the  edge  and  peered  over.  Then, 
with  a  loud  shout,  he  bounded  down  the  bank  in 
pursuit,  as  fast  as  the  dense  thicket  of  undergrowth 
permitted.  Presently  he  came  panting  back,  with 
a  small  sporting  rifle  in  his  hand. 

"  The  scamp  was  too  fleet  for  me,"  he  said ;  "  but 
he  has  lost  his  gun." 

"It  is  Archie's,"  replied  Mary,  "and  here  he  is. 
What  is  the  matter  child?  The  gentleman  will 
not  harm  you." 

The  question   did  not  imply  alarm;   for  barring  a 


164  -W'OODBOUKXE. 

scratch  on  the  cheek,  the  lad  was  not  hurt,  and 
his  buckskin  hunting  suit  was  briar  and  bramble 
proof;  but  his  face  showed  signs  of  deep  vexation 
and  shame. 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  him,"  he  said,  his  color 
deepening  as  he  shot  a  fiery  glance  at  Conrad, 
who  was  regarding  him  with  a  half  amused,  half- 
admiring  look.  "Indeed,  Miss  Mary,  it  was  an 
accident  my  being  here.  I  saw  you  coming,  and 
hid  in  the  tree  for  fun." 

"Queer  notion  of  fun,  you  little  eavesdropper," 
said  Conrad. 

Again  the  boy's  face  grew  crimson  with  indigna 
tion,  and  his  eyes  flashed  defiance  at  his  accuser. 

"It  is  false,"   he  cried.     "Miss   Mary,  you — ," 

"Do  not  believe  you  capable  of  such  an  act, 
Archie,"  replied  the  lady,  hastening  to  his  relief; 
"nor  shall  this  gentleman  do  you  such  injustice 
in  his  thoughts,  if  I  can  help  it.  Mr.  Conrad, 
this  is  the  little  friend  of  whom  you  have  heard 
me  speak." 

"And  whose  acquaintance  I  have  so  much  de 
sired  to  make,"  said  Conrad,  with  winning  cour 
tesy  ;  "  I  recall  the  offensive  expression ;  there,  my 
little  fellow,  take  your  pretty  gun,  and  with  it  my 
hand,  and  thus,  there  is  an  end  of  it.  Now,  hie 
away  after  that  'bunny"  that's  chattering  down 
there  in  the  ravine,  and  leave  Miss  Littleton  and 
me  to  finish  our  conversation." 

"Stay,  Archie,"  exclaimed  Mary,  as  the  boy 
turned  to  go;  "who  is  that  man?" 

Conrad  and  the  boy  looked  quickly  in  the  direc 
tion  she  pointed,  and  saw  a  man  dressed  in  the  garb 


WOODBOURKE.  165 

of  a  sailor,  some  fifty  paces  distant,  walking  hur 
riedly  through  the  Park  towards  the  river.  Another 
moment  he  was  out  of  sight. 

'•  It  isn't  Mike/'  said  Archie ;  "  I'll  run  after  him 
and  see — ," 

"No,  no,"  said  Mary,  hastily;  "it  does  not  mat 
ter.  Go  on  to  the  house  and  tell  aunt  Mr  Conrad 
is  going  away  before  dinner,  and  don't  go  home 
until  I  see  you  again ;  I  have  something  to  send 
your  mother.  That's  a  good  boy;  there's  a  kiss 
for  you." 

Archie  blushed  in  acknowledgment  of  the  favor, 
and,  bowing  gracefully  to  Conrad,  scampered  off  as 
she  requested. 

"  Your  page  is  very  obedient,  but  why  so  thought 
ful,  lady  mine?"  said  Conrad,  observing  that  the 
capricious  damsel  was  following  the  boy  with  a 
serious  gaze.  Mary  started,  blushing  slightly. 

"It  is  nothing,"  she  said,  "only  a  foolish  fancy;" 
but  seeing  that  he  still  regarded  her  with  a  ques 
tioning  look,  she  proceeded:  "You  remember  as  we 
were  riding  home  this  morning  through  the  wood, 
we  heard  the  report  of  a  gun.  It  caused  me  to 
turn  my  head,  and,  fast  as  we  Avere  going,  I  caught 
sight  of  that  same  man  skulking  among  the  bushes 
near  the  road.  He  was  looking  straight  at  me,  and 
a  more  forbidding  face,  though  I  saw  it  for  an 
instant  only,  I  never  looked  on.  When  I  discov 
ered  him  just  now  he  was  peering  at  Archie  from 
behind  that  tree  in  a  stealthy  manner.  At  once  a 
suspicion  took  hold  of  me  that  he  was  dogging 
the  boy's  steps  for  some  evil  purpose.  Quite  ab 
surd,  wasn't  it?" 


166  WOODBOUKXE, 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Conrad ;  "  the  suspicion 
was  natural  enough.  What  a  spitfire  the  lad  is ; 
it  is  well  for  me  he  was  disarmed.  I  like  his 
spirit." 

Mary. — "And  if  he  were  eavesdropping,  it  is  pre 
cious  little  he  got  for  his  trouble." 

Conrad. — "True;  what  a  model  pair  of  turtle 
doves  we  are  to  be  sure." 

Lovers  have  an  incomprehensible  language  for 
which  there  is  neither  lexicon  nor  grammar.  AVhy 
the  other  "dove"'  should  spring  from  her  perch 
and  dart  like  an  arrow  so  quickly  across  the  glade 
at  that  innocent  allusion,  was  to  the  uninitiated 
observer  an  unaccountably  strange  proceeding.  Away 
she  sped  through  the  park,  nor  paused  in  her 
flight  until  she  reached  the  open  lawn  and  caught 
sight  of  Aunt  Theodora's  vigilant  face  looking  out 
at  her  chamber  window.  Then  she  turned  upon 
her  baffled  pursuer  with  a  silvery  peal  of  defiance, 
to  which  the  discomfited  swain  replied  with  the 
baldest  pretence  of  supreme  nonchalance. 

Passing  the  reviewing  officer  with  the  most  pre 
cise  decorum,  the  lovers  entered  the  house. 

"Xow,"  said  Mary,  "I  must  go  and  have  a  lunch 
got  ready  for  you  while  you  are  making  prepara 
tions  for  your  ride." 

Conrad's  rapturous  gaze  followed  her  graceful 
form  as  she  tripped  away  on  her  errand.  "Be 
hold!"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  transport  of  feeling,  "the 
first  gift  of  my  adopted  land — a  treasure  I  would 
not  barter  for  all  the  wealth  and  dignities  that 
kings  can  bestow.  The  Abbe  must  surely  approve 
my  choice,  unless  he  intends  I  shall  never  marry. 


WOODBOUKXE.  167 

How  unlucky  lie  should  be  called  away  so  sud 
denly.  At  least  Ave  must  contrive  to  detain  this 
vessel,  if  only  for  a  day.  He  will  then  have  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  her  before  he  goes  on  this 
perilous  voyage."  So  saying,  he  hastened  to  get 
ready  for  his  journey. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


T  is  the  night  of  the  party.  Bonhill  is 
aglow  with  a  blaze  of  glory,  and  flames 
afar  like  a  cheering  beacon  from  its  hill 
of  pride.  Cavalcade  after  cavalcade  of 
country  beaux  and  belles  are  pouring  in,  and  soon 
the  jocund  sounds  of  revelry  are  floating  gaily  on 
the  palpitating  air.  Old  Uncle  Phil,  the  black 
fiddler,  like  another  Timotheus,  or  ebony  image  of 
the  musical  god  himself,  raised  on  high,  rules  the 
monarch  of  a  season  over  as  goodly  a  company  of 
fair  women  and  brave  men  as  ever  moved  submis 
sive  to  the  spell  of  enchanting  minstrelsy.  Chacim 
a  son  gout.  Let  such  as  like,  "dance  after  a  Mon 
sieur's  flageolet,"  or,  if  they  prefer,  "have  a  set 
of  English  viols  to  their  concert;"  but  for  the 
kind  of  melody  which  puts  life  and  mettle  into 
heel  and  toe,  which  "awakes  the  pert  and  nimble 
spirit  of  mirth  and  turns  melancholy  forth  to 
funerals,"  there  is  no  instrument  of  music  which 
bears  comparison  with  a  tuneful  fiddle  under  the 
skillful  manipulation  of  some  sable  Orpheus  from 
Old  Virginia's  shore.  0,  the  wonderful  works  of 

(108) 


WOODBOURNE.  169 

nature !  Who  would  imagine  that  the  soul  of  har 
mony  resided  in  the  entrails  of  a  caterwauling 
grimalkin?  How  the  secret  was  first  made  known 
is  a  question  about  which  there  is  much  diversity 
of  opinion  among  learned  Thebans,  so  we  will  cut 
the  matter  short  by  agreeing  with  the  "auld  gabbit 
poets,"  that 

Jove's  nimble  son  and  leckie  snel 
M.ide  the  first   fiddle   of  a  shell, 

On  which  Apollo, 
With  mickle  pleasure,  played  himsel 

Baith  jig  and  solo. 

It  is  the  first  time  that  Bonhill  has  witnessed 
such  a  scene  of  merriment  and  glee;  but  not  the 
last  by  a  countless  number.  Ofttimes  have  we  be 
held  the  like  display  in  those  cheery  old  halls — little 
or  nothing  changed,  save  in  the  names  and  costumes 
of  the  actors;  danced  the  same  minuets  and  coun 
try  dances,  reels  and  rigadoons,  and  cut  nameless 
fantastic  capers  to  the  lively  strains  of  the  identi 
cal  cremona  bequeathed  from,  sooty  sire  to  son; 
listened  to  the  like  merry  din  of  inarticulate  voices 
and  clatter  of  many  twinkling  feet;  the  same  glad 
some  chimes  of  silvery  laughter,  rustling  of  silken 
folds,  and,  crowning  all,  the  deft  prompter's  gutteral 
tones  calling  out  the  figures  of  the  dance — every 
charming  feature  as  fresh  and  joyous  as  on  that 
first  night  when  youth  and  pleasure  here  for 
gathered  "  to  chase  the  glowing  hours  with  fiying 
feet." 

There  is  no  observance  here  of  formal  ceremony 
and  staid  etiquette ;  all  things  are  conducted  on 

15 


170  WOODBOUKXE. 

that  indescribably  free  and  easy  plan  and  decorous 
regard  of  unstudied  politeness  which  was  the  ruling 
trait  of  the  social  gatherings  of  the  olden  time  in 
Virginia.  The  guests  are,  for  the  most  part,  known 
to  each  other,  and  the  unacquainted  are  soon  re 
lieved  of  embarrassment  by  a  general  introduction. 
The  first  dance  is  ended;  some  of  the  company 
are  promenading  in  couples,  others  enjoying  a  quiet 
tete-a-tete  in  a  cozy  corner,  and,  here  and  there,  a 
little  group  appears  to  be  drawn  together  by  the 
magnetism  of  some  acknowledged  belle.  In  the 
centre  of  one  of  these  charmed  circles  shines  re 
splendent  the  beautiful  star  of  Clifton.  Her  com 
ing  unattended  by  the  strange  gentleman  was  the 
occasion  of  much  surprise  and  some  disappointment. 
The  explanation  she  vouchsafed  of  his  absence  only 
served  to  enhance  the  general  interest,  and  she  was 
made  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  inquisitive  tongues. 
Having  borne  the  infliction  for  some  time  with 
commendable  suavity  and  good  humor,  she  at  length 
seeks  refuge  from  her  tormentors  by  engaging  in  a 
keen  encounter  of  wit  and  raillery  with  a  sprightly 
young  gentleman,  who  has  only  the  day  before 
arrived  home  from  a  long  sojourn  abroad.  This  is 
Mr.  Charles  Copland,  Jr.,  late  student  of  law  of 
Grey's  Inn,  London,  where  he  has  performed  the 
customary  gastronomical  exercises  with  more  than 
ordinary  credit.  Though  she  sustains  her  part  in 
the  conversation  with  considerable  spirit  and  vivacity, 
it  is  evident  on  narrower  scrutiny  that  her  thoughts 
are  far  from  being  wholly  engrossed  thereby.  Occa 
sionally  her  shafts  fly  at  random,  and  once  in  a 
while  she  is  detected  shooting  a  furtive  glance 


WOODBOURXE.  171 

across  the  room  where  Carleton  is  observed  talking 
to  Lucy  Graeme  in  a  sedate  and  earnest  manner, 
which  is  strangely  at  variance  with  the  prevailing 
gaiety. 

That  arch  diplomatist  has  lost  no  time  in  laying 
his  wily  toils.  Conscious  of  the  delicacy  of  .the 
undertaking,  he  had  set  about  it  with  an  adroit 
ness  which  would  have  done  credit  to  the  genius 
of  a  Temple  or  a  Walsingham.  While  the  dance 
was  going  on  he  found  a  ready  pretext  for  broach 
ing  the  entertaining  subject  of  his  recent  explora 
tions  to  his  partner,  and  so  managed  that  Miss 
Littleton  should  hear  such  significant  snatches  of 
the  story  as  to  awaken  her  suspicions  and  arouse 
an  eager  desire  to  hear  the  whole  of  it.  Now,  it 
so  happened  that  the  object  of  his  artful  scheming 
was  at  the  same  time  revolving  in  her  mind  how 
she  could  contrive  to  obtain  certain  information 
from  Mr.  Richard  Alloway  of  the  supposed  mys 
terious  adventures  of  his  late  uncle  while  in  Europe, 
and  the  apparently  casual  remarks  which  reached 
her  ears  in  the  rounds  of  the  dance  satisfied  her 
that  Carleton  was  in  possession  of  the  matter  she 
sought  to  discover. 

Our  friend  Dick,  we  blush  to  record,  was  so  un 
gracious  as  to  decline  to  meet  his  fair  cousin's 
advances  towards  reconciliation  at  the  half-way  house 
of  mutual  concession ;  he  was  inflexibly  offish,  stiff 
and  punctilious  in  his  demeanor  towards  her.  With 
Lucy  it  was  tout  au  conlrctire,  not  a  word  was 
spoken  of  the  disagreeable  past;  they  glided  at 
once  into  their  former  intimate  relations  and  were 
the  Rosalind  and  Celia  of  old,  forgetful  that  a 


WOODBOURXE. 


single  clotul  had  ever  darkened  the  heaven  of  re 
ciprocal  regard  and  congenial  attachment.  Presently, 
Carleton  joins  the  group  who  are  gathered  around 
Mary  Littleton,  and  claims  her  hand  for  the  next 
dance. 

<<  Would  you  believe  it,  Mr.  Carleton/'  she  ex 
claimed,  after  acknowledging  his  demand,  "here  is 
a  gentleman  all  the  way  from  London  by  the  last 
packet  who  cannot,  for  his  life,  tell  a  body  a  word 
about  the  latest  vogues?  His  talk  is  of  nothing 
but  the  long-winded  debates  in  Parliament,  the 
grand  sights  he  saw  at  my  Lord  Mayors  show,  the 
ghostly  mementoes  of  Westminster  Abbey,  the  monu 
mental  mockeries  of  the  hideous  old  Tower,  and  I 
don't  know  how  many  other  equally  dull  and  stupid 
things  which  we  untraveled  ignoramuses,  of  course, 
never  heard  or  read  of  before,  and  here  I  am 
dying  to  learn  if  my  aigrette  is  a-la-mode,  my  hair 
properly  craped,  my  tucker  such  as  ladies  of  quality 
wear,  whether,  in  a  word,  I  bs  poin'-devise  in  all 
all  my  accoutrements." 

[  am  glad  you  have  come  to  my  rescue,  Carle- 
ton,"  meekly  responded  the  crest-fallen  limb  of  the 
law.  "You  see  now  what  a  fellow  gets  for  being 
so  deucedly  patriotic.  I  heartily  wish  I  had  stayed 
in  London  after  what  I  have  gone  through  since 
my  return*  What  a  dolt  I  was  to  entertain  so 
absurd  a  delusion.  Just  imagine  my  thinking  all 
ijhis  long  while  that  my  fair  country-women  were 
ever  so  busy,  like  true  Spartan  maids  and  matrons, 
setting  the  example  of  independence—  clothing  them 
selves  in  the  products  of  their  own  industrious 
looms  and  spindles,  knitting  stockings  for  General 


•WOODBOUKNE.  173 

Washington's  soldiers,  and  doing  all  manner  of  self- 
sacrificing  things,  and  just  look  at  them,  tricked 
out  in  all  their  finery,  chattering  about  the  latest 
fashions  from  London  and  Paris,  and  denying  mo 
the  welcome  they  would  readily  bestow  on  any 
smuggling  pedler  of  new-fangled  haberdashery. 
Beauty  when  unadorned,  adorned  the  most !  Senti 
mental  stuff!  Why,  what  would  a  woman  be  with 
out  the — ," 

Carleton,  ever  ready,  comes  to  his  assistance  with 
a  handy  tag  of  rhyme: 

"The  powder,  patches,   and  the  pins, 
The  ribbons,  jewels  and  the  rings, 
The  lace,   the  paint  and  warlike  things 
That  make  up  all  their  magazines?" 

"Thank  you,   Harry." 

"  Cowley,  you  mean ;  the  words  are  not  mine,'* 
replied  the  artful  chevalier,  with  an  apologetic  bow 
to  the  ladies. 

"  Never  mind,"  retorted  Copland,  "  I  am  not  afraid, 
to  adopt  the  quotation,  it  you  are.  Why,  even  Bella, 
yonder — bless  her  little  heart,  how  she  cried  when 
her  big  brother  was  sent  away  and  there  was  no 
one  to  play  with  her— -even  Bella,  I  say,  now  a. 
woman  grown,  wept  bitter  tears  of  anguish  in  secret 
when  she  heard  that  I  had  not  brought  her  a  new 
silk  gown.  Well,  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do 
but  to  swallow  my  mortification  with  the  best  grace 
possible.  At  least  there  is  a  grain  of  consolation 
in  the  loss  of  your  kind  favor,  ladies,  in  the  con 
sciousness  of  having  duly  respected  the  laws  of  my 
country.  My  entire  invoice  of  imported  articles  is 

15* 


174  WOODBOl'RXE. 

summed  up  in  a  new  book  of  songs  for  Miss  Lucy, 
and  Scotch  high-dried  enough  to  keep  my  respected 
father  sneezing  through  a  year's  siege." 

"Pray,  tell  me,  Mr.  Censor,"  said  Mary,  in  the 
same  bantering  tone,  "what  is  the  harm  of  our 
wearing  fine  clothes,  if  we  happen  to  have  them  ? 
Then,  sir,  you  forget  that  the  prohibition  is  against 
English  goods.  You  might  have  bought  Bella's 
gown  in  Paris,  where,  I  dare  say,  you  spent  the 
worth  of  a  dozen  frolicking  and  sight-seeing  with 
that  rantipole  cousin  of  mine,  Frank  Tunstall,  as 
you  told  us  awhile  ago." 

"Frank  Tunstall!  Did  he  return  with  you?" 
asked  Carleton. 

"  No,"  said  Copland ;  <:  when  I  parted  from  him 
in  Paris  he  was  preparing  to  set  out  on  the  grand 
tour.  Frank  is  become  to  be  very  much  a  citizen 
of  the  world." 

"And  a  greater  coxcomb  than  ever,  I  imagine?" 
said  Carleton. 

"  Well,  yes,"  replied  Copland ;  "  he  has  cultivated 
fashionable  fopperies  at  a  prodigious  rate;  yet,  with 
all  his  dandified  airs  and  priggish  notions,  he  is  by 
no  means  such  a  vapid  creature  as  you  think — at 
least,  he  is  not  deficient  in  spirit.  By  the  way, 
Miss  Mary,  I  did  not  tell  you  how  we  both  came 
to  be  in  Paris.  Well,  as  I  said,  Frank's  ruling  pas 
sion  is  to  be  a  fine  gentleman,  and  being  hand 
some  and  rich,  and  well-bred  and  all  that,  he  soon 
got  the  entree  of  the  beau  monde,  where  he  sported 
like  a  gorgeous  butterfly.  Could  you  hear  him 
descant  on  their  daily  rounds,  you  would  not  won 
der  that  our  dear  cousins  have  no  time  to  attend 


WOODBOURNE.  175 

to  the  humble  petitions  with  which  we,  as  in  duty 
bound,  have  been  clamorously  besieging  the  throne 
of  kingly  grace;  they  are  literally  overwhelmed  with 
the  grievous  cares  of  their  unhappy  state  which  con 
demns  them  to  oscillate  eternally  between  the  ex 
tremes  of  ennui  and  dissipation.  Frank  deemed  this 
exquisite  mode  of  killing  time  to  be  the  acme  of 
refined  beatitude,  and  he  was  was  never  a  Sabbath 
day's  journey  from  his  darling  London,  until  an 
unlucky  contretemps  fell  out — ," 

"A  love  scrape  with  a  maid  of  honor?"  said 
Mary  Littleton. 

"Pinked  a  young  sprig  of  nobility  in  a  duel?" 
said  Carleton. 

"  Neither,"  replied  Copland ;  "  though  quite  as  bad 
as  the  one  or  the  other.  Returning  home  one  night 
from  the  opera,  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  ven 
ture  alone  into  White's,  that  paradise  of  beaux 
yarcons  and  Jiommes  dc,  condition — anglice  fashion 
able  rakes  and  genteel  sharpers — where,  not  con 
tent  with  the  innocent  diversion  of  being  plucked 
for  a  docile  pigeon,  he  very  foolishly  suffered  himself 
to  be  inveigled  into  talking  of  politics.  Of  course, 
in  such  a  select  assembly  of  loyal  blades,  the 
rabble  rout  of  American  rebels  were  denounced,  as 
they  should  be,  and  the  rash,  intruding  Virginian 
was  not  long  in  finding  himself  an  unwilling 
auditor  of  all  manner  of  scurrilous  allusions,  objur 
gations  and  sneers,  poured  out  without  stint  or 
measure  on  his  countrymen.  He  managed  to  keep 
his  choler  down  and  sustain  the  unequal  combat 
of  billingsgate  and  bravado  until  one  of  his  assail 
ants  made  some  disparaging  speech  about  General 


176  WOODBOUKNE. 

Washington,  who,  among  other  claims  to  distinction, 
has  the  honor  to  be  nearly  related  to  Frank  on 
his  mother's  side.  A  knock  down,  a  general  scuffle 
and  uproar,  and  all  is  dark  to  our  hero  until  he 
awakes  next  morning  with  a  dim  and  confused  per 
ception  of  what  had  happened,  and  a  humiliating 
conviction  that  he  was  certainly  demented  to  ven 
ture  by  himself  in  that  den  full  of  the  British 
lion's  whelps.  He  was  lucky  to  get  off  with  only 
a  bruised  lip  and  one  eye  in  mourning;  but  such 
was  his  mortification  that  I  had  no  trouble  in  per 
suading  him  to  pack  his  portmanteau  and  take  the 
first  diligence  for  Dover.  In  a  fortnight's  time  I 
joined  him  in  Paris,  where  I  found  him  revelling 
in  the  elysian  delights  of  the  gay  metropolis  and 
railing  in  bad  French  at  everything  English  in  a 
way  that  made  the  natives  stare." 

"And  when  is  the  splendid  creature  coming  back 
to  the  land  of  savages?"  asked  Mary. 

"In  the  spring,  he  said,"  replied  Copland.  "I 
shall  promise  him,  when  I  write,  a  peifect  ovation 
from  les  belles-sauvages  !  " 

The  young  lawyer  was  in  rapid  retreat  when  he 
discharged  this  Parthian  arrow.  As  soon  as  he  was 
gone  the  little  coterie  dispersed,  and  Carleton  and 
Miss  Littleton  fell  into  line  with  the  promenaders. 

The  diplomatist  begins:  "Miss  Graeme  tells  me 
she  expected  a  rare  addition  to  her  company  this 
evening.  She  seems  much  disappointed  that  he  did 
not  come ;  to  be  frank,  so  am  I." 

"Indeed?" 

"Yes;  the  gentleman  to  whom  I  allude  is  Mr. 
Conrad." 


WOODBOUKNE.  177 

"  Oh,  my  father's  guest.  I  have  already  endured 
a  siege  of  questioning  on  account  of  his  failure  to 
put  in  an  appearance  here  to-night.  Pray,  why  are 
you  so  deeply  concerned  about  it?" 

"  From  a  better  motive,  I  beg  you  will  believe, 
than  impertinent  curiosity.  I  have  an  important 
reason  for  desiring  to  make  Mr.  Conrad's  acquaint 
ance.  I  am  very  much  exercised  over  an  investi 
gation  of  certain  transactions  of  your  late  cousin, 
Mr.  Richard  Austin,  -while  traveling  in  Europe 
many  years  ago,  and  I  have  a  notion  that  Mr. 
Conrad  can  be  of  service  to  me  in  the  matter." 

Mary  was  visibly  disconcerted  by  the  grave  and 
business-like  precision  with  Avhich  he  opened  the 
conversation.  She  regarded  him  with  a  look  of 
puzzled  surprise. 

"  Is  it  a  confidential  secret,  Mr.  Carleton  ? "  she 
ventured  timidly  to  ask.  "In  your  turn,  you  have 
said  enough  to  stimulate  my  curiosity,  of  which 
eminently  feminine  weakness  I  profess  to  have  my 
full  share." 

A  preliminary  scraping  of  the  fiddle  interrupted 
Carleton's  reply. 

"The  music  is  about  to  begin,"  he  said;  "we 
must  take  our  places  for  the  dance." 

"Are  you  fond  of  dancing,  Mr.  Carleton  ? "  asked 
Mary. 

"  Y-  es,  with  a  pleasant  partner ;  usually,  though, 
I  more  enjoy  looking  on  at  others." 

"  Then,  suppose  you  play  spectator  this  time,  and 
continue  the  conversation  you  have  started." 

"I  am  delighted  you  have  made  the  proposition." 

"Where  are  you  going,  Harry?"  cried  Dick   Allo- 


178  •\VOODBOUKXE. 

way,  as  they  moved  aside  to  make  room  for  the 
dancers.  "  You  are  wanted  here  to  make  up  the 
set," 

"Please,  Cousin  Richard,"  entreated  Mary,  "find 
another  vis-a-vis;  I  ask  to  be  excused  this  one 
time." 

"  Certainly,  if  yon  wish  it,"  replied  the  self-con 
stituted  master  of  ceremonies,  bowing  coldly. 

"  What  a  handsome  couple ! "  was  the  general 
comment  which  ran  in  a  whisper  round  the  room 
as  they  left. 

"Harry  is  hovering  on  the  brink,  Dick,"  said 
Copland;  "if  he  fall  in,  good  night." 

"  Caught  in  the  toils,"  muttered  Alloway  to  him 
self,  '-'after  the  warning  I  gave  him." 

In  the  deserted  drawing-room  they  found  a  secure 
retreat  from  further  interruption.  Seating  herself  on 
the  sofa  near  one  of  the  windows,  Miss  Littleton 
artfully  adjusted  the  folds  of  the  thick  damask  cur 
tain  ,. ostensibly,  as  her  glance  indicated,  to^  screen 
the  couple  from  prying  eyes,  but  really  so  as  to 
throw  a  shadowy  veil  over  her  face  and  thus  enable 
her  to  defy  penetration  into  the  workings  of  her 
mind.  Thus  ensconced,  with  a  queenly  inclina 
tion  she  motioned  her  companion  to  a  place 
beside  her,  and  asked  with  startling  abruptness : 

"Now,  sir,  what  is  it  you  would  have  of  Mr. 
Conrad?" 

The  question  savored  considerably  of  disdainful 
hauteur. 

"She  treats  me  like  an  overgrown  school  boy," 
thought  Carleton,  instinctively  rubbing  his  calloAV 
chin ;  and,  it  must  be  confessed,  appearances  were 


WOODBOURXE.  179 

decidedly  against  our  diplomatic  neophyte's  success 
ful  performance  of  his  serious  role. 

"I  cannot  hope  to  inspire  you  with  the  same 
degree  of  interest  I  feel  in  this  affair,"  said  he; 
"yet  I  may  at  least  make  bold  to  bespeak  your 
sympathy  in  behalf  of  an  infatuated  fellow-creature 
who,  following  a  whimsical  humor  of  his  own,  is 
at  last  caught  floundering  in  a  bog  of  troubles.'' 

"Say,  rather,  a  stargazing  philosopher  dropped 
into  a  well,"  replied  the  veiled  beauty,  in  the  same 
half  scornful  tone.  "  Poor  fellow !  he  has  my  heart 
felt  pity.  Now  for  the  cause  of  his  sorrows?" 

Thus  conjured,  Carleton  rapidly  and  vividly  por 
trayed  the  maze  of  difficulty  in  which  he  had  be 
come  entangled,  bringing  forward  in  sharp  relief  the 
salient  points  which  he  considered  most  likely  to 
produce  an  effect  upon  his  fair  listener.  Never  was 
eloquent  raconteur  rewarded  with  more  flattering 
attention.  Impenetrably  serene  and  still,  she  heard 
him  through  from  beginning  to  end.  He  could  not 
see  her  face  distinctly,  but  the  gentle  heaving  of 
her  bosom  betrayed  no  symptom  of  quickened  pul- 
saton,  and  no  unguarded  gesture  gave  evidence  of 
unusual  excitement. 

"Strange!"  she  said  musingly,  when  he  was  done 
speaking,  with  a  depth  of  feeling  she  had  not 
before  evinced.  "  He  never  gaid  •  a  word  to  his 
nephew  of  his  correspondence  with  Mr.  Buchanan." 

"So  I  conceived  at  first,"  said  Carleton,  adapting 
his  language  to  her  altered  mood;  "but,  on  after 
thought,  his  silence  does  not  appear  to  me  in  the 
least  degree  surprising.  He  was  only  solicitous  to 
learn  whether  his  former  letter  had  reached  its  de.i- 
tination.  AVarnecl  of  his  approaching  end,  it  may  be 


180  WOODBOUKNE. 

of  the  suddenness  of  the  summons  Avhich  awaited 
him,  he  sought  to  divert  his  mind  wholly  from 
worldly  distractions,  and  to  draw  the  curtain  of 
oblivion  on  the  painful  past.  His  few  remaining 
years  were  spent  in  preparing  for  the  eternal  scene; 
death  was  the  familiar  companion  of  his  daily 
walks — the  theme  of  his  constant  meditations.  He 
lived  as  if  the  present  moment  might  be  the  last 
of  earth;  and,  although  he  was  apparently  free  from 
mental  disquietude,  his  soul  was  all  the  time  pay 
ing  cruel  rack-rent  for  its  battered  tenement,  and 
joyfully  when  the  final  notice  came 

'Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day, 
Nor  cast  one  longing,   lingering  look  behind.'" 

The  melting  pathos  Avith  which  he  rendered  his 
brief  tribute  to  the  memory  of  her  afflicted  cousin 
went  straight  to  her  heart  and  dissipated  every 
trace  of  cold  reserve.  Her  manner  was  unaffectedly 
cordial  and  frank  as  she  emerged  from  the  cur 
tained  shadow  and  turned  to  him  in  the  full-orbed 
radiance  of  her  glorious  beauty,  "enough  to  make 
a  world  to  doat." 

"  Many  thanks,  Mr.  Carleton,"  she  said,  "  for 
your  entertaining  story.  It  has  interested  me  more 
than  I  have  words  to  express.  I  sincerely  wish  you 
may  be  successful  in  your  further  researches.  By 
all  means  I  advise  you  to  speak  with  Mr.  Conrad. 
But,  see  the  dance  is  over,  and  Lucy  has  promised 
to  .sing  for  us  in  the  interlude." 

So,  after  all,  the  diplomatist  took  nothing  for 
his  pains,  though  he  was  more  than  ever  convinced 
that  his  fair  listener  was  not  a  whit  the  wiser  for 
his  revelations. 


WOODBOURXE.  181 

"  Who  says  a  woman  cannot  keep  a  secret  ? "  he 
mentally  ejaculated.  '-Dissemblers  by  instinct,  dis- 
guisers  by  habit,  deceivers  by  intuition,  they  are 
masked  batteries  of  deceitful  wiles  and  delusive 
temptations;  'tis  theirs  to  wheedle  and  cajole,  to 
lurk  in  ambush  for  unwary  man,  and  disarming 
his  suspicions  by  flattery  and  blandishments,  to 
shear  him  of  his  strength  and  deliver  him  over 
bound  with  wythes  to  his  adversary.  Delilahs  all! 
Bah!  what  gammon!  Man,  the  tyrant  and  despot 
of  the  sex,  is  alone  responsible  for  the  cajoleries, 
deceits  and  crafty  recourses  of  woman.  These  are 
their  only  weapons  of  warfare,  and  whether  their 
conduct  be  censurable  or  not,  depends  on  the  end 
to  be  gained." 

With  these  incoherent  and  contradictory  ideas 
chasing  each  othor  through  his  discomfited  brain, 
he  bowed  his  acknowledgments  of  her  appreciative 
spsech  with  graceful  courtesy,  and,  resigning  their 
seats  to  the  tired  dancers,  they  mingled  with  the 
joyous  throng  who  were  flocking  around  the  sweet 
songstress  already  seated  at  the  harpischord.  She 
was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  large  new  music 
book — Mr.  Copland's  present — as  the  truants  ap 
proached. 

"Come,  Mary,"  she  said,  "choose   a   song   for  me." 

But  her  father's  cheery  voice  anticipated  Mary's 
selection ;  the  whist  party  had  adjourned  to  hear 
her  sing — "  Rax  ms  ths  beuk,  bairn.  There  is  a 
sang  for  you.  I'se  warrant,  nane  o'  them  -has 
heard  it." 

The  enchantress  obeyed  his  command,  and  pres 
ently  the  touching  strains  of  "Auld  Hobin  Gray'' 


182  WOODBOUHXE. 

fell  upon  the  entranced  ears  of  the  company  in  a 
shower  of  melodious  tears.  Everybody  was  in  ecsta- 
cies.  Even  the  flinty-hearted  "Exciseman,"  between 
the  music  and  the  punch-bowl,  grew  rapturously 
lachrymose,  and,  forgetting  his  so-called  official 
dignity,  kissed  the  fair  performer  on  both  her 
blushing  cheeks.  Other  songs  were  called  for  in 
quick  succession,  and  were  rendered  in  a  way  that, 
to  our  taste,  was  the  perfection  of  music  married 
to  immortal  verse. 

At  length  the  obliging  Lucy  had  to  give  over 
from  sheer  exhaustion  of  fatigue,  and,  be  it  recorded 
for  an  example  worthy  of  imitation  on  like  occa 
sions,  no  importunity  could  prevail  with  one  of  the 
other  less  gifted  daughters  of  song  there  assem 
bled  to  break  the  dulcet  charm  she  had  woven. 
AYe  cannot  stay  to  dwell  on  each  delightful  feature 
of  this  festive  scene.  A  sterner  task  imperatively 
claims  our  attention.  In  diversions  such  as  we 
feebly  described,  interlarded  with  a  profusion  of 
creature  comforts,  the  tide  of  enjoyment  flowed  on 
in  an  unbroken  stream  to  a  late  hour  of  the  night. 
Instead  of  his  national  Tullocliyorum,  Mr.  Graeme 
was  well  content  to  let  young  folks  and  old  frisk 
through  the  intricacies  of  the  Virginia  reel,  and 
when  the  merry  guests  took  their  leave,  Lucy  had 
abundant  cause  for  unalloyed  satisfaction.  Mr.  Wad- 
dell  might  come  now  and  welcome. 

"Dick,"  said  Carleton,  with  a  sleepy  yawn,  as 
they  Avere  riding  slowly  home,  "  Mary  Littleton  is, 
as  you  say,  a  beautiful  enigma.  I  have  lost  the 
wager." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  was  the  consoling  reply,  and 
the  matter  was  dropped. 


CHAPTER    XV. 


T  was  well  nigh  day-break  when  the  two 
friends  arrived  home  from  the  party  at 
Bonhill.  Harry  did  not  wait  to  be  in 
vited,  but  went  straight  to  bed,  and  was 
soon  lost  to  the  music  of  the  cock's  shrill  clarion 
and  echoing  horn.  Not  so  Mr.  Richard  Alloway; 
he  had  other  business  on  his  hands.  It  was  his 
rule  not  to  permit  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  at  any 
time  to  interfere  with  the  regular  routine  of  his 
domestic  administration.  Social  indulgences  were 
never  by  him  carried  to  an  excess  which  unfitted 
him.  for  the  performance  of  his  daily  avocations 
with  scrupulous  exactitude.  So,  donning  his  worky- 
day  clothes,  he  called  up  the  servant,  who  was 
sleeping  by  the  fire  in  the  hall,  ordered  a  fresh 
horse,  and  sallied  forth  on  his  accustomed  round. 
In  addition  to  the  ordinary  tasks,  there  was  a 
stalled  ox  to  be  slain  that  morning,  an  operation 
which  he  always  superintended  in  proper  person. 
The  first  faint  streaks  of  the  dawn  were  glim 
mering  in  the  east,  the  air  was  crisp  and  frosty, 
and  a  soft,  feathery  mist  hovered  above  the  earth, 

(18C) 


181  WOODBOUKNE. 

making    the    dark    wood    appear    like    an   enchanted 
island   in   the   midst  of  a   vapory   sea. 

"Silent  was  then  the  forest  bound, 
Save  the  red  breast's  note  and  the  rustling  sound 
Of  frost-nipped  leaves  that  are  dropping   around, 
Or  the  deep-mouthed  cry  of  the  distant  hound 
That  opens  on  his  game." 

"What  a  morning  for  a  fox-hunt,  was  Alloway's 
first  thought;  his  next  was  for  a  ride,  and  turning 
into  the  road  which  led  through  the  wood,  he  gave 
the  rein  to  his  horse,  and  went  dashing  along  at 
a  pace  which  soon  stirred  the  sluggish  blood  into 
a  warm  glow.  As  he  came  in  sight  of  the  main 
highway,  the  dim  outline  of  a  human  form  whisked 
rapidly  across  the  open  space  in  front  of  him.  He 
saw  it  only  for  a  second;  but  there  could  be  no 
mistaking  that  burly  frame  and  rolling  gait. 

"Ship  ahoy!"  shouted  Dick,  in  a  voice  which 
made  the  leaves  rustle  and  quiver  on  the  trees. 

The  figure  halted  suddenly,  and  was  heard  pant 
ing  and  blowing  like  a  porpoise. 

"Hilloa,  ye  bloody  ould  buccaneer,  where  the 
divil  are  ye  cruising  to  this  time  o'  the  morning?'7 
was  Mr.  Alloway's  best  essay  at  an  Irish  saluta 
tion,  as  he  rode  up  to  the  old  sailor. 

"Och,  Misther  Dick,"  replied  Mike,  slowly  re 
gaining  his  presence  of  mind;  "and  its  only  your 
self  to  be  sure.  Bad  cess — I  mane  top  o'  the 
mornin'  and  the  blessin'  o'  St.  Patrick  to  your 
honor;  but  you've  knocked  me  down  on  my  bame 
ends  intirely." 

'•'Hulled    you    at    the    first     shot,    and   made    you 


WOODBOUHNE.  185 

round  to  in  a  hurry;  rather  ticklish  for  a  crazy 
old  ship  under  a  full  press  of  sail,  eh?  Well,  you 
are  my  prize,  Mike,  and  I  shall  see  you  safe  into 
port.  You  are  the  very  man  I  was  looking  for. 
So,  vast  heave ;  put  your  helm  up  or  down,  any 
way  you  please,  so  you  steer  a  bee-line  for  Wood 
bourne  house." 

While  Dick  was  rattling  on  in  this  comical  vein, 
the  nmquihile  Jack-tar  Avas  holding  fast  to  both 
his  sides  and  struggling  hard  to  recover  breath 
sufficient  to  give  utterance  to  the  contending  emo 
tions  which  convulsed  his  sturdy  form  and  im 
parted  to  his  countenance  a  fearful  expression, 
somewhat  rueful  and  exceeding  wroth.  On  the 
ground  at  his  feet  lay  a  rusty  old  Brown  Bess  of 
a  musket,  which  he  eyed  vengeful ly.  Dick  had  not 
observed  him  closely  before,  owing  to  the  dimness 
of  the  light. 

"  Och,  the  murtherin',  thievin'  vaggabins,  Misther 
Dick,"  he  at  length  blurted  out,  and  paused  for  a 
fresh  start. 

"Who,  Mike?  Why,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter 
with  you?"  asked  Dick,  eagerly;  he  had,  never  seen, 
the  old  sailor  in  such  a  passion  before. 

"Matther  wid  me?  Ye  may  well  ask  that;  an' 
sure  wouldn't  it  be  matther  enough  if  the  moradin' 
villains  had  run  away  with  your  honor's  own  beau-< 
tifnl  boat  ?  By  the  bones  uv  my  ancestors,  it  ig 
myself  that  will  be  afther  purshuin'  the  dirty 
blackguards  to  the  ind  o'  the  world,  an'  my  name 
is  not  Michael  Burke." 

"  Not  afoot  and  overland,  Mike  ? "  said  Dick,  re 
pressing  an  inclination  to  laugh,  "  Come,  tell  me 

1C* 


186  WOODBOURNE. 

what  has   happened  to  put  you   in   such    a    terrible 
stew." 

Thus  entreated,  Mike,  with  many  ejaculations  of 
rage  and  a  free  use  of  the  choicest  epithets  his 
vocabulary  of  nautical  maledictions  afforded,  related 
his  pitiful  story.  He  could  not  tell  precisely  what 
was  the  hour,  but  it  was  after  midnight  last  gone, 
that  he  was  awaked  by  the  furious  barking  of  his 
faithful  house-dog,  which  told  as  plainly  as  if  the 
animal  had  spoken  the  words  that  there  were 
thieves  about.  Jumping  out  of  bed,  he  ran  to  the 
window  in  time  to  see  a  party  of  strange  men 
making  off  with  his  boat,  which  was  kept  moored 
In  a  small  cove  at  the  foot  of  the  garden.  To 
snatch  up  his  gun  and  rush  to  the  door,  all  un 
mindful  of  the  plight  he  was  in,  was  the  work  of 
an  instant;  but,  before  he  could  raise  the  latch, 
his  wife  awoke  in  a  great  fright,  and,  with  a  loud 
screech,  at  one  bound  precipitated  herself  upon  him 
and  immediately  went  into  violent  hysterics.  She 
had  taken  due  advantage  of  Mike's  helpless  condi 
tion  on  retiring  for  the  night  to  give  him  a  piece 
of  her  mind,  and  now  she  was  convinced  her  long- 
suffering  spouse  was  meditating  summary  revenge ; 
so  she  clung  to  him  like  grim  death,  Aveeping  and 
praying,  and  howling  and  begging  for  mercy  all  in 
a  breath.  It  was  a  fortunate  diversion  for  the 
marauders ;  as  by  the  time  Mike  had  succeeded  in 
assuring  "swate  Misthress  Murchuson "  that  she 
was  not  the  object  of  his  murderous  thoughts,  and 
to  make  her  understand  what  was  the  real  cause 
of  alarm,  the  boat  had  cleared  the  mouth  of  the 
cove  and  was  safe  from  pursuit.  But  Mike  had 


WOODBOUKNTE.  187 

not  been  a  bold  sea-rover  for  nothing.  He  watched 
the  "bloody  pirates"  until  they  were  out  of  sight, 
and  the  water  being  as  smooth  as  glass  and  the 
stars  shining  brightly,  he  had  no  trouble  in  seeing 
them,  when  they  had  gotten  an  offing,  lay  their 
course  for  the  mouth  of  the  Potomac  river.  His 
plan  was  conceived  and  put  in  execution  with  a 
celerity  and  vigor  which  would  have  reflected  honor 
on  the  bold  and  enterprising  commander  of  the 
Endeavor  himself.  Shouldering  his  trusty  musket, 
and  giving  Mrs.  Murchuson  a  wide  berth  for  fear 
she  might  offer  to  interpose  an  obstacle  to  his 
design,  he  scudded  away  under  full  sail  for  the 
neighboring  port  of  entry,  where  he  was  sure  to 
find  the  assistance  he  needed  in  carrying  his 
rapidly  concocted  plan  into  effect. 

"You  can  count  on  me  for  help,  heart  and  hand, 
old  friend,"  exclaimed  Alloway,  when  the  sailor  had 
finished  his  tale.  "  Hurry  forward  and  have  every 
thing  in  readiness ;  I  will  join  you  without  delay," 
and,  speeding  Mike  on  his  way,  he  hastened  home 
ward. 

At  the  lawn  gate  he  met  James,  the  butler,  who 
v,-a3  looking  for  him  with  a  note,  which  had  just 
that  moment  been  brought  by  a  servant  from  Clif 
ton.  The  bearer  said  his  orders  were  to  take  it  as 
quickly  as  possible  to  Mr.  Alloway,  and  not  to 
tarry  for  an  answer.  Dick  glanced  at  the  super 
scription;  it  was  from  Mary  Littleton.  With  an 
explanation  of  surprise  he  hastily  opened  the  letter, 
and  read  the  following  alarming  summons:  ' 


188  AVOODBOURXE. 

"DEAR  COUSIN  RICHARD : 

"Please  come  to  me  as  speedily  as  you  can. 
Something  dreadful  has  happened;  I  know  not  what. 
Don't  delay;  every  moment  is  as  precious  as  life. 

"  Your  distressed   cousin, 

"MARY  LITTLETON/' 

"  Good  heavens ! "  thought  Alloway,  what  can  be  to 
pay  at  Clifton?"  But  there  was  no  time  for  specu 
lation.  His  gallantry  alone  would  have  prompted 
immediate  obedience  to  his  cousin's  command;  but, 
from  his  knowledge  of  her  firm  and  courageous 
temper,  he  was  forced  to  conclude  that  this  bewil 
dering  missive  was  far  from  being  the  inspiration 
of  the  ordinary  pangs  and  fears  which  wars  and 
women  are  said  to  have  in  common. 

"James,"  said  he  to  the  servant,  "go  tell  your 
Uncle  William  he  need  not  wait  for  me,  and  see 
that  Mr.  Carleton  is  not  disturbed  until  I  get 
back.  Stay — there  is  another  thing  I  was  near  for 
getting.  Get  a  horse,  and  ride  as  fast  as  you  can 
on  the  road  to  Yeocomico  until  you  overtake  Mr. 
Burke.  Tell  him  not  to  stop  for  me;  he'll  under 
stand.  That's  all  I  have  to  say,"  he  added,  seeing 
the  man  was  hesitating  for  further  orders,  and 
plunging  into  a  nigh  path  through  the  wood  he 
proceeded  to  obey  Miss  Littleton's  mandate  at  the 
top  of  his  horse's  speed. 

The  excitement  of  a  night's  frolicking  is  not  con 
ducive  of  sound  slumber.  Such  was  Carleton's  ex 
perience  when  ho  found  himself  Avide  awake  after 


WOODBOURNE.  189 

having  slept  an  hour  or  two,  little  refreshed  and 
the  prey  of  nervous  restlessness.  His  senses  were 
not  yet  recovered  from  the  giddy  whirl  of  intoxi 
cation,  and  the  gay  and  merry  scenes  he  had  just 
quitted  danced  before  his  eyes  in  a  wild  phantas 
magoria  of  revelry.  One  object  only  was  clearly 
discernible  in  the  ever-shifting  maze  of  fancy,  a 
picture  never  to  be  erased  from  memory — which 
"seen  became  a  part  of  sight'' — that  of  the  daz 
zling  vision  of  womanly  perfection,  the  queenly 
creature  who  had  sat  and  listened  so  intently  to 
his  strange  story,  her  glorious  eyes  shining  like 
stars  in  the  dusky  twilight  sky,  and  her  head 
resting  on  one  fair  hand  which  pressed  back  the 
luxuriant  mass  of  hair  she  suffered  with  careless 
art  to  float  in  rich  undulations  over  her  neck  and 
shoulders.  Beyond  the  lingering  sense  of  sore 
chagrin  at  the  failure  of  his  deep-laid  scheme  to 
surprise  her  heart's  secret,  he  did  not  try  to 
analyze  the  sensations,  very  near  akin  to  love,  with 
which  she  had  inspired  him.  He  was  convinced  by 
that  one  interview  that  the  interesting  stranger  was 
master  of  the  situation,  and  he  was  not  the  man 
"to  build  a  fair  house  on  another  man's  ground.'' 
Finding  it  utterly  vain  trying  lo  woo  the  drowsy 
god  back  again,  he  arose,  dressed  in  haste,  and  de 
scended  to  the  hall.  Seeing  nobody  stirring  about 
the  house,  he  concluded  his  host  was  still  a-bed, 
and  that  the  best  thing  he  could  do  to  while 
away  the  time  until  Alloway  made  his  appearance, 
was  to  take  another  leisurely  survey  of  that  charm 
ing  pleasure  ground — the  library.  This  time  it  is 
the  books  which  attract  his  particular  regard.  Of 


190  WOODBOURN'E. 

these  there  are  a  great  variety — principally  standard 
Avorks  in  every  department  of  letters,  and  many  of 
them  exceedingly  rare  and  curious  specimens.  Mr. 
John  Austin  was  something  of  a  bibliophile,  and, 
although  he  did  not  exactly  regard  everything  as 
fish  which  came  to  his  net,  he  was  far  from  in 
dulging  the  "hide-bound  humor"  of  a  severely 
censorious  judgment  in  gathering  his  supplies  of 
mental  pabulum.  Evidently  he  thought,  with  his 
favorite  author,  that  he  could  not  more  safely  and 
with  less  danger  scout  into  the  regions  of  sin  and 
falsity  than  by  reading  all  manner  of  disquisitions, 
and  hearing  all  manner  of  reason.  The  valuable 
collection  was  mainly  the  result  of  his  liberal  dis 
position  and  untiring  industry,  but  his  son  had  en 
riched  it  by  the  addition  of  the  most  recent  Eng 
lish  and  French  publications. 

What  were  Carleton's  sensations  as  he  gazed  wist 
fully  at  this  rich  mine  of  treasured  lore  ?  While 
at  College  he  had  frequently  been  heard  to  declare 
that  it  was  the  darling  object  of  his  ambition  to 
become  a  distinguished  scholar — to  erect  an  en 
during  monument  of  his  fame  in  that  congenial 
field  of  intellectual  enterprise.  But  another  career 
was  marked  out  for  him  by  the  hand  of  over 
ruling  destiny.  From  blissful  academic  dreams,  he 
has  been  rudely  awakened  by  the  rush  and  roar  of 
angry,  surging  waters.  In  the  vortex  of  a  mighty 
revolution  he  must  plunge,  and,  Percy-like,  drag  up 
drown'd  honor  by  the  locks.  Young  as  he  was,  he 
was  well  fitted  to  bear  an  active  and  shining  part 
in  the  stirring  events  of  the  period.  The  faculties 
of  some  men  are  developed  Avith  amazing  precocity. 


WOODBOUE^E.  191 

At  an  early  age,  before  they  have  reached  the  arbi 
trary  limit  of  parental  pupilage,  their  matchless 
powers  seem  to  have  attained  the  fullest  stature, 
and  they  need  only  the  spur  of  opportunity  to  call 
them  into  vigorous  play.  Experience  is,  indeed,  in 
dispensable  to  the  complete  fruition  of  genius;  it 
corrects  the  judgment,  informs  the  understanding, 
enlarges  the  heart,  and  chastens  the  spirit,  incul 
cating  prudence  and  enforcing  the  necessity  of  vig 
ilant  self-control.  But  while  it  points  out  the  true 
mark  and  gives  steadiness  to  the  aim,  it  adds 
nothing  to  the  strength  of  the  arm  that  bends  the 
springing  bow.  That  is  the  jealous  boon  of  the 
Almighty  Giver  bestowed  for  great  purposes  on  the 
chosen  instruments  of  providential  design.  To  this 
favored  class,  the  eagles  of  their  kind,  belonged 
Henry  Carleton.  To  a  joyous  and  sanguine  tem 
perament,  and  a  ready  and  sparkling  wit,  he  united 
a  judgment  sagacious,  ripe  and  discerning  beyond 
his  years,  a  daring  and  determined  spirit,  and  a 
soul  which  glowed  with  the  vestal  fire  of  sincerely 
patriotic  devotion.  With  such  qualities,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  in  after  years  he  won  .the  intimate 
confidence  and  friendship  of  the  most  severely  just 
judge  of  the  motives  and  conduct  of  his  fellows — 
"the  man  who  was  first  in  war,  first  in  peace, 
and  first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen."  It  is 
true,  lie  does  not  appear  to  be  directly  involved 
with  the  train  of  circumstances  which  form  the 
ground  work  of  the  present  narrative;  yet  we  have 
thought  proper  to  accord  him  a  passing  tribute, 
and  to  express  the  hope  that  his  appearance  in 
ever  so  subordinate  r,  part  on  our  mimic  stage  may 


192  WOODBOURNE. 

afford   some   foreshadowing  of   the   character   he   dis 
played  in  real  action. 

On  this  occasion  our  cavalier  seems  to  be  greatly 
puzzled  to  find  such  light  diversion  as  accords  with 
the  excited  frame  of  his  mind.  At  length  he 
selects  at  random  a  volume  of  the  handsome  new 
edition  of  Pope,  which  is  a  portion  of  Mr.  Richard 
Austin's  latest  contributions  to  the  stock  of  mis 
cellaneous  literature.  It  is  all  correspondence.  There 
is  a  folded  page  on  which  a  passage  has  been 
marked  with  a  pencil.  He  reads  it  aloud:  "Great 
God!  what  an  incongruous  animal  man  is!  How 
unsettled  in  his  best  part,  his  soul,  and  how  change 
able  and  variable  in  his  frame  of  body;  the  con 
stancy  of  the  one  shook  by  every  notion,  the  tem 
perament  of  the  other  affected  by  every  blast  of 
wind.  What  is  he  altogether  but  one  inconsistency  ? 
Sickness  and  pain  are  the  lot  of  one-half  of  him; 
doubt  and  fear  the  portion  of  the  other.  What  a 
bustle  we  make  about  passing  our  time,  when  all 
our  span  is  but  a  point.  What  aims  and  ambi 
tions  are  crowded  in  this  little  instant  of  tmr  life 
which  is  rounded  Avith  a  sleep.  Our  whole  extent 
of  being  is  no  more  in  the  eye  of  Him  who  gave 
it  than  a  scarce  perceptible  moment  of  duration. 
Those  animals  whose  circle  of  being  is  limited  by 
three  or  four  hours,  as  the  naturalists  tell  us,  arc 
yet  as  long-lived  and  possess  as  wide  a  scene  of 
action  as  man,  if  we  consider  him  with  a  view  to 
all  space  and  all  eternity.  Who  knows  what  plots, 
what  achievements  a  mite  may  perform  in  his  king 
dom  of  a  grain  of  dust  within  his  life  of  some 
minutes,  and  of  how  much  less  consideration  than 


WOODBOU11XE.  193 

this  is  the  life  of  man  in  the  sight  of  God,  who 
is  from  ever  and  forever!  Who  that  thinks  in  this 
train  but  must  see  the  world  and  its  contemptible 
grandeurs  lessen  before  him  at  every  thought.  "Tis 
enough  to  make  our  brains  stupefied  in  a  poize 
of  inaction,  void  of  all  desires,  of  all  delights,  of 
all  friendships." 

Carleton  mused:  "'TVere  a  twinge  indeed,  thought 
he,  could  extort  such  a  lugubrious  note  as  this 
from  the  sweet  swan  of  Twickenham.  lie  must 
have  been  woefully  haunted  with  blue-devils.  Could 
it  be  imagined  that  the  maudlin  creature  who  vented 
this  nauseating  rheum  of  splenetic  humor  was  the 
same  author  who  wrote  the  "Messiah"  and  the 
"Essay  on  Man?''  A  pitiable  world  it  would  be 
if  everybody  in  it  moralized  in  so  desponding  and 
distempered  a  train.  It  is  a  blessed  thing  that 
man  is  an  incongruous  animal — many  sided,  many 
handed,  and  many  minded;  if  he  were  not,  what  a 
humdrum  affair  would  be  the  epic  of  human  life? 
For  all  the  snarling  of  mangy  cynics,  he  is  a  most 
marvellous  piece  of  mechanism,  well  deserving  the 
eulogy  of  the  divinest  of  bards— "noble  in  reason, 
infinite  in  faculties,  in  form  and  moving,  how  ex 
press  and  admirable,  in  action  how  like  an  angel, 
in  apprehension  how  like  a  god!"  Such  is  the 
light  in  which  he  should  be  taught  to  regard  him 
self,  and  without  the  just  pride  which  is  the  mani 
festation  of  the  Divinity  which  stirs  within  him, 
he  would  be  more  despicable  than  the  tiniest  midge 
that  disports  its  brief  hour  in  the  sunbeam." 

"It  is  to  be  hoped,"  he  continued,  speaking 
aloud,  "that  Mr.  Richard  Austin  was  not  prevailed 


17 


194  WOODBOUKXE. 

upon  to  swallow  such  empirical  stuff  as  an  anti 
dote  for  the  bane  of  a  miserable  life.  Dick's  a 
happy  fellow;  how  I  envy  him  his  knack  of  taking 
the  world  so  easy.  Had  this  peripatetic  personage 
been  my  uncle,  I  would  not  have  had  a  day's 
peace  of  mind  until  I  had  fully  realized  the  folly 
of  that  wisdom  which  is  to  be  had  by  prying  into 
forbidden  secrets.  Call  it  what  you  will,  childish 
superstition,  idle  curiosity — but  if  this  old  house 
belonged  to  me,  it  should  be  made  to  give  up  its 
secret,  or  else  I  would  blow  it  up  with  gun 
powder." 

"  Playing  Guy  Fawkes,  eh  ? "  cried  a  voice  behind 
him. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


T  was  Alloway  who  had  come  hurriedly 
into  the  room  unperceived.  Carleton 
started  at  the  sadden  apparition.  "  Why, 
Dick,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  thought  you  were 
all  this  time  fast  asleep,  and  here  you  are  looking 
as  if  you  had  been  riding  a  steeple-chase,  and  you 
are  as  solemn  as  an  owl  and  as  mysterious  as  the 
devil.  Hang  it  all!  Don't  stand  there  gaping  like 
a  moon-calf  in  a  dumb  show,  but  out  with  it  at 
once.  "What  in  the  world  have  you  been  doing?" 

"In  a  moment,  Harry."  He  went  out,  gave  an 
order  to  the  servant  and  returned.  "Now,"  said 
he,  "sit  down  and  let  me  have  your  undivided 
attention.  It  is  a  real  mystery  this  time;  I  sin 
cerely  trust  it  may  not  lead  to  a  tragical  dis 
closure." 

"  He  is  evidently  in  earnest,"  thought  Carleton, 
seating  himself  in  the  nearest  chair,  arrectis  auribus. 

"Eead  that,"  said  Dick,  giving  him  Miss  Little 
ton's  note,  by  way  of  dramatic  prologue. 

On  perusing  it  the  last  shade  of  incredulity  van 
ished  from  his  brow;  he  listened  eagerly.  Briefly 

(195) 


19G  WOODBOUKXE. 

recounting  the  occurrences  we  Lave  narrated.  Allo- 
way  went  on  to  say:  "When  I  arrived  at  Clifton 
I  found  my  cousin  waiting  for  me  in  the  parlor. 
She  was  very  pale,  but  perfectly  composed  and 
self-possessed.  It  is  surprising  what  wonderful  com 
mand  over  their  feelings  some  women  have.  After 
thanking  me  in  one  earnest  word  for  my  prompt 
ness,  she  at  once  made  known  the  reason  of  her 
importunate  message.  Colonel  Littleton  and  herself 
were  the  last  of  the  company  to  leave  Bonhill,  sho 
having  lingered  to  speak  with  Mrs.  Graeme.  On 
reaching  home,  she  had  barely  gone  to  her  room 
before  she  heard  the  furious  galloping  of  a  horse, 
and,  as  it  stopped  in  front  of  the  door,  a  voice, 
which  she  instantly  recognized  as  Mr.  Thompson's, 
bawled  out:  'Littleton,  Littleton!'  Her  father  had 
not  quitted  the  hall,  and  going  quickly  to  the 
door  exclaimed,  as  he  opened  it  and  caught  sight 
of  the  collector,  'My  God,  neighbor,  what  is  the 
matter  with  you?'  Alarmed,  she  ran  to  the  win 
dow  and  looked  out.  There  sat  old  Jake  on  his 
horse,  a  figure  to  look  upon.  He  was  in  a  state  of 
excitement  bordering  on  phrensy;  his  features  were 
convulsed  with  rage,  and  he  was  talking  and  ges 
ticulating  at  a  fearful  rate.  She  could  not  make 
out  what  he  was  Baying,  farther  than  that  some 
thing  was  the  matter  with  Archie,  and  now  and 
then  she  was  convinced  that  she  caught  an  un 
complimentary  allusion  to  her  father's  guest.  Pres 
ently,  he  wheeled  his  horse  around,  and,  throwing  a 
parting  word  over  his  shoulder,  went  flying  down 
the  avenue  with  break-neck  speed.  Hurrying  down 
stairs,  she  met  her  father.  She  had  never  seen  him 
more  agitated  and  distressed.  '  This  is  a  terribly 


"WOODBOTJRNE.  19? 

bad  business,  my  daughter,'  he  said.  'Thompson's 
little  boy  has  been  spirited  away — carried  off  in  the 
night;  two  of  his  hands  are  reported  to  be  miss 
ing,  and  he  himself  is  as  mad  as  a  March  hare, 
for  he  swears  that  Mr.  Conrad  is  the  cause  of  it 
all.'  Well  nigh  fainting  with  apprehension  and 
alarm — any  other  woman  would  have  swooned  away 
on  the  spot — she  besought  him  to  tell  her  .how  it 
happened.  He  replied  that  he  could  not  get  a  clear 
or  definite  account  from  the  Collector,  he  raved  so 
incoherently;  but,  at  her  earnest  entreaty,  he  very 
promptly  ordered  his  horse  and  set  out  in  pursuit 
of  his  demented  neighbor.  When  he  was  gone,  her 
fears  increased,  and,  in  her  extremity,  she  sent  for 
me.  You  remember  that  fellow  we  saw  yesterday 
on  the  river  in  a  skiff?" 

Carleton. — "The  sailor?     Yes,  and  the  boy   also." 

Alloway. — "The  villain  was  following  Archie,  and 
if  any  harm  has  befallen  the  poor  lad  he  is  prob 
ably  the  author  of  it."  Hero  he  related  the  ad 
venture  of  the  oak,  with  which  the  reader  is  familiar, 

Carleton. — "No  doubt  the  rascal  had  a  hand  in 
it — very  likely  the  principal;  but  he  must  have 
had  help  in  such  a  daring  undertaking." 

Dick.—"  Precisely  what  the  Collector  said,  only  he 
accuses  Mr.  Conrad  of  being  the  prime  mover  in 
the  scheme  of  villainy,  and  that  was  the  greatest 
source  of  trouble  to  my  fair  cousin,  as  much  aa 
she  felt  on  Archie's  account.  '  Nothing,'  said  she, 
'could  be  more  absolutely  false,  not  to  say  prepos- 
perous.'  I  do  not  know  what  possessed  me,  but  I 
started  to  say  something  about  the  suspected  party 
being  a  stranger,  and  immediately  wished  the  words 

17* 


198  TVOODBOURNE. 

Lad  choked  me.  'Stay,'  she  cried — and  you  should 
have  seen  how  the  blood  rushed  into  her  face  and 
then  flowed  back  upon  her  heart,  leaving  her  as 
white  as  an  alabaster  figure,  while  her  eyes  sparkled 
and  flashed  like  two  great  diamonds — 'I  know  what 
it  is  you  would  say.  Stranger  let  him  be;  but,  for 
the  sake  of  your  own  dear  honor,  breathe  not  a 
syllable  of  the  unjust  suspicion  which  your  looks 
imply.  It  is  no  time  for  explanations.  Still  as  I 
have  invited  this  conference  in  a  matter  of  the 
most  delicate  and  distressing  nature,  you  have  a 
right  to  expect  my  entire  confidence  shall  be  given 
you.  In  due  time  you  will  be  fully  gratified.  For 
the  present  it  is  enough  for  you  to  know  that  he 
in  whose  behalf  I  bespeak  your  interest  is  my 
affianced  husband,  the  peer  of  the  best  gentleman 
in  the  land.'  Jupiter,  how  splendidly  she  said  that, 
and  how  thoroughbred  she  looked!" 

Seeing  Carleton  smile  at  this  last  characteristic 
simile,  he  quickly  continued,  "  It  was  impossible  to 
gainsay  this  candid  declaration.  The  starch  was 
completely  taken  out  of  me.  I  felt  an  indescribable 
thrill  of  sympathy  and  admiration,  and  hastened  to 
assure  my  lovely  cousin  that  my  poor  service  was 
entirely  at  her  command.  And  had  she  ordered  me 
to  bring  her  the  head  of  the  Grand  Turk,  I  should 
have  started,  I  verily  believe,  post-haste  for  Con 
stantinople  on  horseback." 

"  O  Dea  c:rte !  What  a  wonderful  metamorphosis 
the  heartless  coquette  has  undergone ! "  Carleton 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  saying. 

"I  deserve  your  ill-timed  sarcasm,  Harry,"  said 
the  penitent  Richard,  "but  I  beg  yon  will  not  again 
interrupt  me.  As  I  was  saying,  I  asked  her  how  I 


WOODBOURXE.  199 

could  best  aid  her  in  the  matter.  She  replied  that 
Mr.  Conrad  was  now  at  Yeocomico,  whither  he 
went  yesterday  afternoon  on  business.  He  was  ex 
pected  back  some  time  during  the  morning.  Of 
this  her  father  knew  nothing.  She  wished  that  I 
would  seek  him  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  apprise 
him  of  what  has  happened  before  that  hot-headed 
old  blunderbuss  of  a  tory  brings  the  hue  and  cry 
of  the  country  about  his  ears — a  result  which  would 
exasperate  the  high-spirited  gentleman  .beyond  en 
durance,  besides  being  to  her  mortifying  in  the 
extreme.  This  I  readily  undertook  to  do,  and  seeing 
that  she  had  glanced  repeatedly  at  the  clock  and 
noted  every  swing  of  the  pendulum,  'one  word 
more,'  said  I;  'may  I  take  Mr.  Carleton  with 
ine?'  'As  you  please,'  said  she;  and  off  I  went 
like  a  shot,  and  here  I  am,  and  breakfast  is  ready, 
and  our  horses  are  at  the  door.  You  see,  Harry," 
added  Dick,  persuasively,  ""it  is  a  ticklish  piece  of 
business,  and  I  shall  need  your  tact  to  help  me 
through  with  it." 

"Anything  to  oblige  yon,  Dick,"  said  Carleton; 
"but  I  must  confess  that  the  salt  has  lost  its 
savor.  Miss  Littleton's  affianced  husband!  I'm 
sped;  "tis  not  so  deep  as  a  well,  nor  so  wide' — 
say,  Dick,  why  not  let  the  old  tory  and  the  French 
man  fight  it  out  a-la-mort?" 

"Come,  Harry,"  replied  his  host  with  dignity; 
"it  is  no  time  for  pleasantry.  I  feel  acutely  for 
Mr.  Thompson,  and  do  earnestly  hope  that  nothing 
evil  has  happened  to  poor  little  Archie." 

"I  stand  reproved,  Dickon,"  protested  Carleton, 
"  so,  en  avant  I '' 


CHAPTER    XVII. 


HE  morning  meal  hurriedly  partaken,  Allo- 
way  and  Carleton  mounted  their  fleet 
steeds,  and  in  nowhile  gained  the  sum 
mit  of  the  high  hill  within  a  mile  of 
the  port  of  entry,  from  which  was  a  full  view  of 
the  broad  Potomac.  The  first  object  which  greeted 
their  sight  on  its  placid  bosom  was  the  gallant 
bark  Katrine,  looming  upon  the  horizon  like  some 
"  huge  bird  of  heavenly  plumage  fair,"  every  stitch 
of  her  canvas  being  flung  out  to  catch  the  light 
breeze.  At  this  stage,  the  intersection  of  two  roads, 
they  were  joined  by  another  horseman,  who  came 
thundering  along  the  highway  known  as  the 
"Neck"  road,  bloody  with  spurring,  fiery-red  with 
speed. 

"Jupiter!"  exclaimed  Alloway,  "if  it  is  not  the 
Collector." 

It  was  indeed  Mr.  Jacob  Thompson,  still  in  a 
towering  rage  and  looking  the  incarnation  of  ven 
geance  and  destruction.  His  clothes,  which  had  not 
been  changed  since  the  party,  were  scarcely  dis 
tinguishable  in  pattern  for  the  mud  with  which 

(2.C) 


WOODBOUBXE.  201 

he  was  covered  from  head  to  foot;  his  gaunt  and 
burly  form  trembled  with  passion,  and  he  shook 
his  clenched  hand  at  the  ship,  shouting  as  he  did 
so  with  the  cry  of  a  baffled  tiger: 

'•'Gone,   by   God!    the   infernal   black  pirate." 

'•For  Heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Thompson,"  cried  the 
friends  in  a  breath,  "what  is  the  meaning  of  this 
pother?" 

"  0,  you  marauding  scoundrel ! "  exclaimed  the 
irate  old  gentleman,  taking  no  notice  of  the  ques 
tion  ;  "  I'll  be  even  with  you  yet  I'll  live  to  see 
you  hanging  like  a  dog  at  the  yard-arm  of  your 
own  vessel." 

"Who  is  it?"  inquired  Dick,  eagerly;  "surely 
not  Captain  Dent?" 

"It  is  Dent,  sir,"  roared  the  Collector,  as  if  he 
defied  Dick  to  deny  it ;  "  Dent,  the  deceitful,  pala 
vering,  kidnapping  villain." 

Dick. — "Kidnapping!  Have  they  carried  Archie 
off  in  the  vessel?" 

Collector. — "Archie  is  gone,  sir;  and,  what  is  more, 
two  of  my  best  hands." 

"Dnnmore's  proclamation,"  chimed  in  the  mis 
chievous  Carleton,  by  way  of  adding  fuel  to  the 
flame  of  the  old  gentleman's  wrath. 

"D — n  Dunmore!"  he  exclaimed;  "the  black 
hearted,  white-livered  poltroon.  He  ran  away  at  the 
first  gun,  and  left  the  like  of  me  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  rebels,  thieves  and  murderers.  He  will 
get  his  deserts  when  the  King  hears  of  these  out 
rages.  Haven't  you  brought  the  country  to  a  pretty 
pass  among  you  ?  No  law,  no  officers,  no  any 
thing — just  a  d — d  den  of  savages  and  wild  beasts. 


202  WOODBOURXE. 

You  go  and  kick  up  a  row  because  you  want  to 
live  without  paying  your  taxes  to  the  government 
you  belong  to;  and  this  man  they  call  a  governor 
gets  scared  and  sneaks  off,  and  then  calls  upon  the 
negroes  to  help  him.  A  pretty  way  to  put  down 
one  rebellion  by  raising  a  worse;  and  he  never  once 
asks  leave  of  their  owners  whether  they  be  loyal 
men  or  not.  He  shall  be  impeached  as  sure  as 
there  is  a  Parliament  sitting  in  London." 

Seeing  that  the  old  gentleman  was  so  beside  him 
self  with  anger  that  nothing  was  to  be  gotten  from 
him  but  an  incoherent  tirade  of  abuse  of  everybody 
and  everything,  Alloway  thought  to  divert  the  tide 
of  his  wrath  by  saying  that  Carleton  and  he  were 
out  in  search  of  Mr.  Conrad.  It  was  the  signal  of 
another  explosion. 

"Looking  for  him,  are  you?  Then  you  may  as 
Avell  turn  round  and  go  back  home.  You'll  not 
see  the  rascal  again  in  a  hurry,  I'll  be  bound.  I 
knew  him  for  a  d — d  French  spy  as  soon  as  I  set 
eyes  011  him;  I  said  as  much  to  Littleton.  Eh! 
Why,  there  he  is  now." 

It  was  not  Conrad  as  the  friends  naturally  sur 
mised,  but  Colonel  Littleton,  approaching  them  from 
the  direction  of  Yeocomico.  As  he  rode  up  his 
greeting  was  constrained  and  embarrassed,  and 
although  he  tried  hard  to  master  his  emotion,  per 
plexity  and  chagrin  were  plainly  visible  in  his  face. 

"You  are  early  abroad  after  the  frolic  last  night, 
young  gentlemen,"  said  he  to  Alloway  and  Carle- 
ton,  and  then,  as  the  former  was  about  to  reply, 
turning  quickly  to  Mr.  Thompson,  he  continued, 
"Come,  neighbor,  it's  no  use  tarrying  here;  I'll 
see  you  home." 


WOODBOURXE.  203 

The  Collector  gave  a  vengeful  glance  at  the 
Katrine.  She  had  by  this  time  rounded  Smith's 
Point,  and  was  standing  down  the  bay.  Then, 
without  a  word,  he  accepted  Colonel  Littleton's 
proposal,  and  they  rode  away  together.  Recovering 
from  his  surprise,  Alloway  called  to  Colonel  Little 
ton  to  inquire  whether  he  had  seen  or  heard  aught 
of  Mr.  Conrad  in  his  ride. 

"  He's  gone ! "  replied  the  'Squire,  sharply  and 
without  turning  his  head. 

The  young  cavaliers  sut  regarding  each  other  in 
blank  astonishment. 

"Well,  Harry,",  said  Dick,  drawing  in  a  deep 
breath,  and  emitting  it  in  a  most  musical,  most 
melancholy  whistle,  "what's  to  be  done  now?" 

Even  the  quick-witted  Carleton  was  for  once 
dumbfounded.  "Would  it  were  bed-time  and  all 
wrere  well,"  he  Avas  in  the  act  of  saying,  when  he 
was  interrupted  by  a  hoarse  voice  calling:  "0,  Mr. 
Richard,  I  certainly  am  glad  to  see  you,"  and  at 
the  same  moment  an  old  man,  dressed  like  a  fisher 
man,  shambled  out  of  a  thicket  near  the  road  and 
stood  before  them.  He  stuck  the  paddle,  which 
he  carried  on  his  shoulder,  in  the  ground,  and 
leant  on  it  with  both  hands. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Bragg,''  said  Dick;  "you 
seem  tired." 

"An'  well  I  mought  be,"  replied  the  fisherman ; 
"I  have  walked  every  blessed  step  of  the  way  from 
my  house,  as  hard  as  I  could  put  foot  to  the 
ground,  with  this  here  letter  for  Mr.  Graum,  which 
it  was  sent  to  him  by  a  gentleman  on  board  of 
the  vessel,  and  he  told  me  to  be  sure  he  got  it 


204  WOODBOURXE. 

betimes  this  morning.  Xow,  Mr.  Richard,  if  you 
be  going  soon — ," 

"I  can  save  you  the  rest  of  the  journey?  Cer 
tainly,"  replied  Alloway,  taking  the  letter  from  the 
old  man's  hand;  "so  you  saw  the  Katrine  off?" 

Bragg. — "Yes,  sir;  I  was  'long  side  of  her  when 
she  weighed  anchor.  You  see,  the  Captain  wanted 
me  to  bring  him  some  oysters." 

Dick. — "Had  she  many  passengers?" 

Bragg. — "  I  can't  speak  for  certain  about  that. 
I  didn't  see  nobody  but  the  Scotch  gentleman  as 
give  me  the  letter.  There  was  two  niggers  in  a 
big  boat  beggin'  and  entreatin'  of  the  Captain  in 
the  pitifullest  manner  to  take  'em  on  board;  but 
he  told  'em  to  go  back  home  and  give  his  re- 
specks  to  their  master  and  tell  him  he  wasn't  in 
the  nigger  kidnappin'  business  at  this  pertickler 
time.  While  they  was  a  chaffin,  I  seen  another  big 
boat  come  out  of  the  creek.  Soon  as  ever  them 
darkies  got  sight  of  her  they  'peared  to  know  egg- 
zactly  what  was  to  pay,  for  they  let  go  the  painter 
and  shot  for  shore  'way  up  the  river.  Then  come 
the  chase, — " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Bragg,  that's  all  I  wish  to 
know,"  said  Dick,  preparing  to  go. 

"Hold  on  one  second,  Mr.  Richard,"  said  the 
fisherman;  "what  is  the  matter  with  Mr.  Thomp 
son  ?  He  come  straining  by  me  like  he  wan't 
caring  if  he  killed  his  horse  or  broke  his  own 
neck." 

"They  were  his  negroes  who  were  running  away," 
replied  Alloway,  and  commending  the  loquacious 
fisherman  to  a  more  appreciative  audience,  he  and 


WOODBOURXE.  205 

Carleton  were  oif  again  on  the  wings  of  the  wind. 
They  separated  at  the  road  leading  to  "Woodbourne, 
Alloway  proceeding  directly  to  Bonhill. 

The  day  was  now  far  spent;  Mr.  Graeme  was 
not  long  returned  from  his  usual  ride.  Discarding 
ceremony,  the  young  man  rushed  into  his  presence 
and,  thrusting  the  letter  into  his  hand,  exclaimed: 
"For  Heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Graeme,  tell  me  quickly 
what  news  is  in  it." 

The  good  gentleman  stared  at  his  excited  neigh 
bor  us  if  he  thought  he  had  surely  "gane  gyte;"  but 
he  was  so  completely  knocked  off  his  balance  as  to 
be  incapable  of  resenting  the  indecorous  proceeding. 
Hastily  breaking  the  seal,  he  ran  his  eye  over  the 
letter  in  search  of  the  explanation  of  this  un 
gracious  intrusion  on  his  privacy.  Suddenly  his 
manner  changed;  he  became  fearfully  agitated,  and 
his  countenance  betrayed  a  variety  of  indescribable 
emotions.  Recovering  his  habitual  self-control  by  a 
strong  effort,  he  slowly  and  attentively  reperused 
the  letter,  and,  having  done  so,  remained  some 
minutes  in  deep  thought.  Then  he  rose  from  his 
chair,  and,  turning  to  Alloway,  said  in  a  calm  and 
decided  tone:  "Bide  here  a  time,  Eichard,  lad; 
aiblins  ye  might  wish  to  speak  a  word  wi'  Lucy; 
but  ye  maunna  be  ganging  hame  before  my  return 
frae  Clifton ; "  and  before  his  visitor  could  utter  a 
word  in  reply,  he  snatched  up  his  hat  and  cane 
and  left  the  room.  In  the  hall  he  met  his  daughter, 
to  whom  he  communicated  something  in  a  low, 
earnest  tone,  and  ere  another  hour  elapses,  he  is 
seen  in  close  conference  with  Mary  Littleton  and 
her  father, 
is 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 


HOROUGHLY  worn  down  by  the  day's 
rough  work,  Carleton  as  soon  as  he  reached 
Woodbourne  threw  himself  to  rest  on  the 
settle  in  the  library.  "Well,"  said  he, 
"this  beats  cock-fighting  out  of  sight,  as  Bob  Tem 
ple  would  say,  and  fox-hunting,  too,  from  the  way 
my  limbs  ache ;  just  enough  of  the  flavor  of  vil 
lainy  to  give  it  relish.  What  can  that  rascally 
skipper  be  up  to?  Mary  Littleton's  fiancee  has  de 
camped,  too;  the  old,  sorrowful  story;  it's  a  sad 
business;  yet,  what's  the  loss  of  one  lover  to  a 
girl  who  has  a  pack  of  them  that  will  come  at 
her  whistle?  Who  knows  that  it  may  not  yet  be 
my  turn?  Psha!  I  verily  believe  I  arn  getting  to 
be  as  big  a  ninny  as  the  rest  of  them.  Amour  tu 
perdis  Troie!  A  deep  saying  that  of  the  divine 
Pascal;  there's  indeed  no  guessing  what  would  have 
happened  to  the  human  family  had  Madam  Cleo 
patra's  nose  been  a  little  shorter.  Heigh  ho!  This 
is  excellent  sport  for  the  piping  times  of  peace; 
but  it  is  not  the  way  to  purge  these  English  hence. 
Shame  upon  the  whole  tribe  of  lusty  young  fel- 


WOODBOURXE.  207 

lows,  myself  among  the  number,  to  be  dancing 
attendance  here  on  a  pair  of  black  or  blue  eyes,  or 
else  galloping  over  the  country  after  hounds  and 
horn,  when  they  should  be  in  the  trenches  at 
Boston  with  muskets  in  their  hands.  But  Rome 
was  not  built  in  a  day;  neither  can  a  cavalry 
company  be  recruited  and  equipped  for  service  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  I  have  gained  one  im 
portant  point.  Alloway  has  engaged  to  help  me, 
and  he  is  a  tower  of  strength.  I  have  always  en 
tertained  a  warm  regard  for  Dick's  amiable  quali 
ties,  but  I  had  no  conception  before  of  the  amount 
of  good,  stern  stuff  that  was  in  him.  Bold,  alert, 
sharp-sighted  and  strong-limbed,  he  is  a  born  stark 
trooper.  I  wish  I  had  a  hundred  just  like  him 
enlisted  for  the  war  and  determined  to  fight  to  the 
bitter  end."  With  which  patriotic  aspiration  his 
soliloquy  ended,  and  another  minute  he  was  fast 
locked  in  the  embrace  of  the  drowsy  god. 

He  had  been  scarcely  an  hour  asleep  before  he 
was  awakened  by  the  entrance  of  a  visitor.  It  was 
the  young  lawyer.  He,  too,  showed  evident  signs 
of  having  been  considerably  jostled  from  his  usual 
placid  and  sedate  demeanor. 

"All  alone,  Harry?"  he  exclaimed,  barely  giving 
Carleton  time  to  say  good  morning.  "Where's  Allo 
way?  What's  all  the  muss  about?  The  whole 
country  is  up  in  arms,  but  devil  a  soul  can  tell 
what  it  means.  Dick,  they  say,  is  in  the  secret; 
where  can  I  find  him?" 

Here  James,  who  had  ushered  in  Mr.  Copland, 
explained  the  cause  of  his  master's  detention  at 
Bonhill. 


208  WOODBOURNE. 

"But  he  must  have  told  }*ou  everything,  Harry; 
that's  the  next  best  evidence.  Tell  me,  now,  the 
exact  truth  of  the  matter ;  I  have  had  enough  of 
Temple's  palaver." 

"What  I  know  is  soon  told/*  replied  Carleton. 
*'  It  seems  that  this  Captain  Dent,  with  what  mo 
tive  is  beyond  conjecture,  has  abducted  old  Mr. 
Thompson's  foster-son,  and  it  is  moreover  surmised 
by  some  people  that  a  certain  foreign  adventurer, 
in  whom  a  lady  acquaintance  of  ours  is  said  to  be 
interested,  had  a  hand  in  the  nefarious  transaction." 

Copland.— "The  Frenchman?  Why,  Bob  Temple 
just  now  informed  me  that  he  and  Miss  Littleton 
were  engaged  to  be  married." 

Harry. — "The  tattling  coxcomb!  What  does  he 
know  about  it?" 

Copland. — "Next  to  nothing,  I  a.m  well  satisfied, 
and  therefore  I  shall  have  to  call  a  more  reliable 
and  better  informed  witness.  Come  to  the  book, 
Harry.  I  must  have  the  truth,  the  whole  truth 
and  nothing  but  the  truth  concerning  that  little 
tete-a-tete  last  night." 

Evidently  Carleton  was  not  in  a  humor  to  relish 
his  friend's  bantering  tone.  He  had  suddenly  lapsed 
into  gravity.  "No  offence,  Charley,"  he  said,  "but 
I  must  insist  on  dropping  the  subject ;  it  sounds 
so  unfeeling — our  jesting — considering  the  turn 
things  have  taken.  What  you  have  heard  is  very 
true;  they  are  betrothed.  Dick  Alloway  had  the 
assurance  from  Miss  Littleton's  own  lips  this  morn 
ing.  Why  he  went  away  on  the  vessel  I  cannot 
divine;  but  of  one  thing  I  have  no  manner  of 
.doubt — he  is  not  implicated  in  the  kidnapping 
affair." 


WOODBOURNE.  209 

Copland. — "It  is  a  pretty  case,  Harry,  and  my 
professional  acumen  is  greatly  piqued;  but  since 
you  wish  it,  I  will  forego  the  examination  for  tha 
present.  Gone,  eh?  taken  French  leave!  What  wa.s 
the  tune  we  were  dancing  to  last  night?  < Mai- 
brook  has  gone  to  the  wars.'  A  thousand  pardons, 
Harry;  what  was  you  going  to  say?" 

Harry. — "Having  dismissed  that  disagreeable  topio, 
tell  me  what  is  the  news  abroad.  I  did  not  have 
a  chance  to  question  you  at  the  party  last  night." 

Copland. — "My  intelligence  is  summed  up  in  one 
word — war;  they  mean  to  lick  us  into  terms  if 
they  can.  Such  is  the  pronounced  purpose  of  the 
Ministry,  and  the  body  of  the  people  applaud  it. 
During  my  three  years'  stay  in  London  I  was  a 
close  observer,  and  read  with  care  the  real  exposi 
tors  of  public  sentiment.  The  secret  of  Lord 
Chatham's  popularity  and  influence  lay  in  the  unex 
ampled  success  of  his  war  policy,  conducted  as  it 
was  with  such  wonderful  spirit  and  energy.  The 
results  added  immensely  to  the  British  possessions, 
and  placed  the  nation  on  the  pinnacle  of  power 
and  greatness.  The  land  resounded  with  the  lo 
Triomphe  of  the  Great  Commoner,  the  people's  idol, 
a  very  god, — and  what  was  of  more  importance  to 
us,  the  sincere  friend  of  America,  inflexibly  opposed 
to  every  scheme  tending  to  subject  us  to  unright 
eous  burthens.  The  jubilee  over,  the  day  for  audit 
ing  arrives — the  remorseless  piper  presents  his  bill. 
Lo,  the  budget  foots  up  the  enormous  sum  of 
£140,000,000— the  whole  of  it  spent  by  Lord  Chat 
ham  in  his  glorious  campaigns.  He  is  naturally 
looked  to  for  suggesting  the  way  to  pay  it;  but 

18* 


210  WOODBOl'BXE. 

he  is  no  financier;  such,  drudgery  is  beneath  the 
notice  of  a  great  statesman;  he  turns  the  business 
over  to  his  brother-in-law,  Granville.  That  minister 
tries  the  old-fashioned  plan.  New  duties,  imposts 
and  excises  are  the  order  of  the  day.  The  country 
is  in  a  ferment  of  indignation;  the  cities  grow  riot 
ous,  and  Ciderland,  especially,  is  ready  to  raise  the 
standard  of  open  rebellion.  In  despair,  ministers 
resort  to  the  colonies  for  help.  These,  they  say, 
have  been  the  sole  gainers  by  the  war,  have  been 
saved  from  the  tender  mercies  of  tomahawk  and 
scalping-knife  by  British  valor;  they  must  foot  the 
bill.  The  colonies  flare  up,  and  their  attitude 
creates  alarm  among  the  merchant  princes  of  Lon 
don,  Liverpool  and  Bristol.  Granville  points  to  the 
war-budget  of  his  predecessor,  and  demands  to  know 
where  he  is  to  get  money  to  meet  the  deficit  in 
the  treasury.  Pitt  retorts  with  a  humorous  sally, 
but  the  '  Gentle  Shepherd *  is  not  so  easily  laughed 
out  of  court.  He  reiterates  the  significant  question, 
and  sober  business  men  realize  its  grave  importance. 
It  is  plain  to  them  that  every  source  of  legitimate 
revenue  must  be  tapped  or  the  credit  of  the  nation 
will  be  irretrievably  damaged.  Thus  the  question  of 
the  right  to  tax  the  colonies  became  the  one  absorb 
ing  theme  of  parliamentary  debate  and  popular 
agitation.  In  proportion  to  our  earnestness  in  pro 
testing  against  the  outrage,  did  public  opinion  in 
England  manifest  itself  in  favor  of  the  King's  de 
termination  to  make  the  experiment,  and  now  the 
nation  as  a  whole  is,  in  my  judgment,  fully  pre 
pared  to  support  the  most  vigorous  measures  the 
administration  may  devise  for  our  subjugation.  You 


WOODBOURXE.  211 

can't  imagine  how  contemptuously  they  speak  of 
us.  I  was  mad  enough  to  fight  a  hundred  times 
before  I  left  London,  but  managed  to  keep  my 
temper  from  getting  the  better  of  my  discretion." 

Harry. — "What  you  say  corroborates  Mr.  Arthur 
Lee's  opinion  in  a  recent  letter  to  my  father. 
Well,  I,  for  one,  do  not  regret  the  course  events 
have  taken.  With  my  good  old  preceptor,  Dr. 
Witherspoon,  I  believe  the  people  of  America  are 
not  only  ripe  for  independence  but  rotting.  It  is 
too  late  now  for  the  government  to  retrace  its  steps. 
Our  terms  have  risen  since  the  guns  opened  on 
Boston.  We  can  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less  than 
the  unequivocal  renunciation  of  the  right  to  tax  us 
against  our  consent,  and  guaranteeing  to  us  by 
irrepealable  grants  local  home  government,  involving 
the  retrenchment  of  the  executive  functions  of  vice- 
regents,  and  an  increase  of  legislative  authority  in 
the  provincial  assemblies.  In  a  word,  we  must 
have  all  and  singular  the  privileges,  immunities 
and  franchises  of  English  subjects.  These  they  are 
not  likely  to  give,  and  the  end  is  foreseen.  To 
your  tents,  0  Israel ! " 

Copland.—  "Why,  Harry,  you  are  an  improved 
edition  of  Nat  Bacon." 

Harry  (enthusiastically).— "  You  could  not  pay 
me  a  dearer  compliment.  Bacon  fired  the  first  gun 
for  American  liberty;  may  it.be  my  glorious  privi 
lege  to  shoot  the  last  mother's  son  of  its  enemies." 

Copland  (professional  caution  could  not  stand  be 
fore  the  fiery  zeal  of  his  companion). — "You  are  a 
trump,  Harry,"  he  warmly  replied.  "Still  I  cannot 
h'3lo  wishing  the  crisis  had  been  put  off  until  I 


212  AVOODBOURNE. 

had  finished  the  round  of  the  inns  of  courts. 
However,  that's  no  great  matter;  this  revolution,  if 
it  succeeds,  will  make  many  sweeping  changes  in 
the  principles  and  practices  of  the  common  law, 
and  I  may  have  to  unlearn  half  I  know  at  present. 
But  who  have  we  here?" 

It  was  another  visitor  come  to  learn  the  exact 
particulars  of  that  astounding  outrage.  Soon  another 
and  another  arrived  in  breathlesss  haste.  The 
exciting  news  had  flown  far  and  wide  over  the 
country;  the  untiring  "postman"  was  in  his  ele 
ment,  doing  yeoman  service  and  sending  the  intelli 
gence  with  lightning  speed  in  every  direction. 
Gathering  volume  as  it  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  it  at  last  swelled  into  the  most  extravagant 
dimensions,  past  all  whooping,  and  rumor  after 
rumor  of  the  most  absurd  description  glided  swim 
mingly  along  on  the  top  wave  of  popular  credulity 
to  the  remotest  corner  of  the  colony. 

In  no  while  Carleton  found  himself  to  he  the 
cynosure  of  quite  an  imposing  assembly  of  indig 
nant  young  patriots,  who  were  unanimously  agreed 
that  it  was  high  time  to  put  a  stop  to  such  high 
handed  and  lawless  proceedings.  He  improved  the 
occasion  to  harangue  them  on  the  abominations  of 
tyranny  in  general,  and  the  grievous  oppressions  of 
British  rule  in  particular.  The  fruits  of  his  glow 
ing  phillippic  were  a  round  dozen  able-bodied  vol 
unteer  recruits  for  the  horse  company. 

It  was  after  candle-light  when  Alloway  returned; 
the  company  were  all  gone,  and  Carleton  was  again 
alone.  His  host  was  whistling  as  he  entered,  a 
signal  which  foreboded  other  strange  developments. 


AVOODBOURNE.  213 

"  Here  you  are  at  last ! "  cried  Carleton,  "  charged 
to  the  muzzle  with  inscrutable  wisdom,  to  judge 
from  your  looks.  Come,  out  with  it;  I  am  heartily 
disgusted  with  this  everlasting  game  of  blind-man's 
buff." 

"Blind-man's  buff  with  a  vengeance!"  replied 
Dick,  dropping  into  a  chair  and  stretching  his 
limbs  with  an  air  of  intense  weariness.  "Throw 
me  the  slippers  there  in  the  corner.  What  a  re 
lief  to  get  rid  of  these  plaguey  hard  boots;  now  I 
am  comfortable.  "Well,  Harry,  we  are  at  a  dead 
fault;  the  trail  is  as  cold  as  a  wedge — lost  beyond 
recovery;"  and,  to  give  emphasis  to  the  startling 
announcement,  he  stared  hard  at  his  friend  with  a 
visage  that  was  comically  blank  and  rueful. 

Bewildered  as  he  was,  Carleton  could  not  help 
laughing.  "  Lost !  "  he  repeated ;  "  where  ?  in  Mr. 
Graeme's  punch-bowl  ?  " 

"In  Chesapeake  bay,"  replied  Dick,  with  unmoved 
countenance;  "the  pirate  has  captured  your  mighty 
hero,  and  away  goes  your  little  romance.  If  I  was 
not  so  sleepy,  I  would  a  tale  unfold — " 

Harry. — "Not  a  wink  of  sleep  shall  you  have 
until  you  tell  me  what  you  know;"  and  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  he  locked  the  door  of  the 
room  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

Dick. — "And  shall  I  not  take  mine  ease  in  mine 
inn,  Hal?" 

Harry. — "When  you  have  done  with  your  pro 
voking  tomfoolery,  not  before.  Come,  sir,  the  story, 
the  story ! " 

Dick. — "  Sheath  your  impatience,  Hal.  Will  not  a 
song  do  as  well?  Captain  Kidd,  you  know — 

"  'And  he  sailed  and  he  sailed — '  " 


214  WOODBOURNE. 

Harry. — "I  verily  believe  you  are  tipsy  in  good 
earnest.  Your  conduct  is  outrageous.  Here  I  have 
been  the  best  part  of  the  day — (Dick,  sotto  voce, 
'As  dry  as  a  powder-horn,') — entertaining  a  score 
or  more  of  your  friends  and  neighbors  while  you 
have  been — " 

Dick. — "  In  better  company.  AYell,  insatiable  news 
monger,  sit  down  and  hearken  to  my  tale,  and 
much  may  it  enlighten  you." 

But  highly  as  we  respect  Mr.  Eichard  Alloway's 
powers  of  narration,  we  prefer  to  tell  the  story  in 
our  own  way,  and  in  our  own  good  time. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


the  Christian  calendar,  the  Sabbath  is 
the  first  day  of  the  week.  Of  old,  it 
was  the  seventh  and  last  day  which  the 
Almighty  Maker  hallowed  and  blessed  for 
His  own.  By  the  change  it  became  doubly  sancti 
fied,  celebrating  the  victory  over  death  and  the 
grave,  and  forever  typical  of  the  rest  which  is  pre 
pared  for  the  saints  in  heaven. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  very  loose  notions  at 
this  time  prevailed  in  Virginia  as  to  the  due  ob 
servance  of  the  Lord's  day,  but  with  the  exception 
of  that  phase  of  profanity  more  or  less  common 
to  every  age  and  country  since  the  Christian  era 
began,  the  people  were  duly  regardful  of  every 
thing  that  pertained  to  the  sanctity  of  religious 
institutions. 

It  was  Sunday,  the  last  day  of  Carleton's  proposed 
sojourn  at  "Woodbourne,  and,  judging  from  the  signs 
of  the  weather,  it  was  the  last,  too,  of  that  delightful 
interlude  of  the  seasons  Avhich,  in  this  latitude,  goes 
by  the  name  of  the  Indian  Summer.  The  wind 
was  blowing  great  guns  from  the  northwest;  cloudy 

(215) 


216  WOODBOURNE. 

racks  went  sknrrying  across  the  welkin's  face, 
darkening  the  sun  and  shooting  cold  lances  through 
shivering  lights  and  livers,  and  the  leaves  of  the 
forest  were  falling  thick  and  fast  under  the  savage 
flail  of  the  tempest.  Harry  was  sitting  at  the  win 
dow  watching  the  limbs  of  the  great  oak  on  the 
lawn,  as  they  swayed  to  and  fro  in  the  gale. 

"I  am  thinking  there  will  be  a  slim  attendance 
at  church  this  blustering  morning,"  said  he,  turn 
ing  to  Dick,  who  had  just  come  in  and  was 
toasting  his  shins  by  the  fire. 

"Never  you  fear  for  that,"  replied  his  friend. 
"Between  curiosity  to  hear  the  'new-light'  preacher, 
and  the  desire  to  talk  over  yesterday's  doings,  they 
won't  mind  the  weather  if  the  wind  does  blow. 
Ugh!  but  it's  a  nipper  nevertheless,  right  from  the 
North  Pole." 

Harry. — "It  will  be  as  great  a  treat  to  me  as 
to  the  rest  of  the  benighted  heathen  hereabouts.  I 
haven't  heard  a  good  rousing  sermon  since  I  left 
Nassau  Hall.  Mr.  Waddell  is  said  to  be  a  man  of 
extraordinary  parts;  he'll  be  sure  to  stir  things  up 
from  the  bottom.  You  will  catch  it,  you  miserable 
sinner." 

Dick. — "For  what,   more  than   the  rest -of  you?" 

Harry. — "Why,  for  your  two  notoriously  beset 
ting  sins — horse-racing  and  fox-hunting." 

Dick.— "If  that's  all,  let  it  blow  till  it  crack.  I 
do  certainly  love  a  fine  horse,  and  can  boast  of 
the  fastest  to  be  found  in  the  four  counties.  As 
for  fox-hunting,  I  freely  confess  that  I  am  some 
what  addicted  to  the  good  old  gentlemanly  pastime 
which  has  come  down  to  us  from  remotest  an- 


AYOOD30URXE.  217 

tiquity,  and  which,  by  the  hye,  was  especially  hon 
ored  by  your  mighty  hero,  Harry  the  Fifth  of 
England." 

Harry.— "I  never  heard  before  that  he  was  so 
passionately  fond  of  the  chase.  Where  did  you  get 
your  information  ?  " 

Dick.— "Kot  from  Shakespeare!  Still  it  is  a  his 
torical  fact.  Why,  did  you  never  read  the  story 
of  his  coming  one  day  to  see  his  darling  Kate  in 
Paris  with  a  fox-tail  stuck  in  his  helmet  in  place 
of  a  plume  ?  What  did  that  signify,  I  should  like 
to  know?" 

Harry. — "Rightly  interpreted,  it  meant  that  he 
had  won  the  brush — that  is  to  say,  the  wife  and 
her  rich  dowry  of  lands,  chattels  arid  heredita 
ments." 

Dick. — "Anyhow,  it  was  a  royal  recognition  of 
the  glorious  sport  which  has  always  been  the  pride 
and  delight  of  free-born  Britons.  The  preachers 
had  as  Avell  be  done  canting  about  the  cruelty 
of  it.  What  were  birds  and  beasts  of  prey — dogs 
and  men  included — made  for  but  to  exterminate 
pestiferous  vermin  and  keep  the  world  from  being 
overrun  by  vegetarians  and  herbivorists  ?  It  is 
ridiculous,  past  endurance  to  hear  one  of  these 
sleek  parsons,  whose  paunch  is  with  'good,  fat 
capon  lined,'  and  whose  life  is  one  happy  dream 
of  green  goose  and  chicken-pie,  railing  at  the  bar 
barous  custom  of  destroying  the  poor  innocent 
foxes." 

Harry  (laughing). — "You  are  perfectly  incorrigi 
ble,  Dick.  You  wouldn't  dare  to  make  that  speech 
in  Mr.  Graeme's  hearing." 

19 


218  WOODBOfRXE. 

Dick — "Why  not?  The  old  gentleman  is  as  keen 
a  sportsman  as  any  of  ns.  You  would  be  charmed 
to  hear  him  describe  his  famous  badger- hunts  when 
he  was  a  pranksome  lad  in  Scotland.  But  it's 
time  we  were  getting  ready  for  church." 

In  the  midst  of  what  was  once  a  magnificent  grove 
of  oaks  and  hickories,  cedars  and  poplars,  hard  by 
a  spring  of  the  purest  and  coolest  water  that  ever 
refreshed  the  thirst  of  man  and  beast,  rises  a  ven 
erable  pile  dedicated  long  years  ago  by  Christian 
prayers  to  the  worship  of  the  living  God.  The 
date  is  on  the  wall.  It  was  built  A.  D.  1706,  of 
bricks,  they  say,  brought  all  the  way  from  Eng 
land,  hard  enough  when  they  came  out  of  their 
native  kiln,  but  so  much  the  harder  for  their  sea- 
change  as  to  defy  the  ravages  of  old  Edax  Tern- 
pus.  It  is  in  much  better  preservation  than  many 
similar  edifices  in  Virginia  of  much  later  date  of 
erection,  and  has  undergone  occasional  repairs  and 
alterations  from  time  to  time.  Some  of  these  better 
ments  had  better  been  left  off,  in  our  opinion.  A 
new  roof  was  indispensably  necessary;  but,  alas, 
the  sacreligious  genius  of  modern  improvement  has 
gone  inside  and  ransacked  and  disfigured  at  such 
a  tasteful  rate  that  the  original  architect  would 
not  be  able  to  recognize  his  goodly  handiwork. 
Especially  do  we  miss  from  its  place  the  quaint 
old-fashioned  pulpit,  with  its  overhanging  sounding- 
board,  which,  in  the  wantonness  of  juvenile  fancy, 
we  expected  to  see  come  down  like  a  well-fitting 
lid  and  imprison  the  Rev.  Thumbtext  in  a  living 
tomb.  Mayhap  the  dread  of  such  a  catastrophe  led 
to  its  removal.  Outside  everything  speaks  of  ruin 


WOODBOURNE.  219 

and  decay.  The  wall,  which  enclosed  a  space  of 
two  acres,  in  the  centre  of  which  stands  the 
church,  has  crumbled  to  the  earth  in  a  dozen 
places;  the  vestry-room  is  a  dismantled  wreck, 
fragments  of  broken  tombstones  are  strewn  around, 
and  the  frequent  yawning  hollows  within  the  pale 
remind  the  passenger  how  soon  he  may  be  the 
prey  of  dumb  forgetfulness.  The  old  church  has 
seen  strange  sights  in  its  day,  and  experienced  a 
variety  of  uses  little  dreamed  of  by  its  pious 
founders.  In  the  war  of  1812,  as  many  living  wit 
nesses  can  testify,  it  furnished  commodious  quarters 
for  a  squad  of  valorous  militiamen,  charged  with 
the  duty  of  watching  the  enemy's  war  vessels, 
which  were  constantly  running  in  and  out  of  the 
river  and  sending  their  barges  ashore  to  set  fire  to 
houses  and  hay-stacks.  They  performed  their  part 
like  veterans,  if  we  are  to  believe  the  stories  of 
their  prowess  related  by  a  surviving  member;  on 
one  occasion  actually  marching  ten  miles  in  a 
single  night,  and  reaching  their  destination  in  time 
to  cook  their  breakfast  by  the  smoldering  embers 
of  a  once  proud  mansion,  and  to  fire  a  volley — of 
oaths — at  the  hindmost  sloop-of-war  now  hull-down 
on  the  horizon.  Then  it  became  by  day  a  school- 
house,  where  young  ideas  were  trained  to  such  ex- 
pertness  in  throwing  stones  as  not  to  leave  a  whole 
pane  of  glass  in  the  large  mullioned  windows; 
and  at  night  it  served  as  a  grateful  couching-place 
for  beasts  of  the  field,  as  well  as  a  favorite  roosting- 
place  for  birds  of  evil  omen.  At  another  time, 
within  our  memory,  it  was  the  debatable  border  land 
of  two  fiercely  contending  religious  clans,  who  well 


220  WOODBOURXE. 

nigh  came  from  words  to  blows  in  disputing  their 
mutual  claims  to  rightful  possession.  And,  lastly, 
in  the  height  of  the  late  terrific  contest  between 
the  States  it  was  again  converted  into  a  barracks 
for  the  accommodation  of  a  choice  band  of  Belt- 
sacrificing  heroes  of  the  last  ditch,  who  generously 
forewent  their  share  of  the  splendid  laurels  which 
bloom  on  the  perilous  ridges  of  battle  and  besido 
the  paths  of  crimson  glory,  and  were  humbly  con 
tent  with  the  meaner  sort  that  grew  in  the  neigh 
boring  morass,  in  which  they  found  at  once  the 
modest  recompense  of  a  soldier's  reward  and  a 
secure  hiding-place  from  the  insolent  foe.  Away 
with  mawkish  "whimpering  and  sentimental  cant ! 
What  is  yonder  ancient  pile  of  brick  and  mortar 
but  the  rude  work  of  profane  human  hands,  and  as 
for  those  mournful  relics  of  the  forgotten  dead, 
why,  if  every  grave  were  covered  with  a  stone  the 
surface  of  the  earth  would  in  no  while  become 
one  vast  tessellated  pavement  of  lying  epitaphs.  The 
moral  is  plainly  written:  You  must  do  something 
more  than  "  building  churches,"  if  you  would  not 
have  your  name  buried  in  the  tomb  of  oblivion  by 
the  next  nnvenerating  generation. 

Mr.  Eichard  Alloway  prognosticated  rightly;  there 
was  a  large  concourse  of  people  of  both  sexes  and 
all  size.?,  and  of  different  complexions  of  color  and 
creed,  to  hear  the  word  expounded  by  that  inter 
loping  schismatic,  as  he  was  obstinately  denounced 
by  the  most  bigoted  churchmen.  The  ill-natured 
sneers  at  the  Presbyterian  preacher's  expense  only 
the  more  inflamed  the  popular  heart,  which  was 
now  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  sentiment  of  re- 


•\VOODBOURXE.  221 

ligions  toleration.  The  services  had  not  begun 
when  onr  friends  arrived;  it  yet  lacked  some  min 
utes  of  the  appointed  hour,  and  the  minister  had 
not  made  his  appearance.  The  greater  part  of  the 
male  portion  of  the  congregation,  sheltered  from 
the  blast  under  the  lee  of  the  church,  were  ex 
changing  neighborly  greetings  and  descanting  upon 
current  news,  prominently  the  exciting  occurrences 
of  the  previous  day.  Presently  there  is  a  -cautionary 
whisper;  the  conversation  ceases,  and  all  eyes  are 
turned  upon  the  tall,  spare,  clerical-looking  gentle 
man  who,  conducted  by  Lucy  Graeme,  walks  quickly 
across  the  yard  to  the  side  entrance  of  the  church, 
receiving,  as  he  passed,  the  respectful  salutations 
of  the  assembly,  which  he  acknowledged  with  grace 
ful,  dignified  courtesy.  A  murmur  of  approbation 
betokened  the  favorable  impression  his  looks  and 
carriage  had  produced,  as  following  his  example, 
the  crowd  poured  into  the  church  until  it,  was 
filled  to  its  utmost  capacity.  Kever  before  or  since 
was  there  such  another  gathering  within  those 
sacred  walls.  Our  description  is  taken  from  a  letter 
in  the  family  archives,  which  says  that  the  audi 
ence  were  "literally  jammed,  crammed  and  packed 
like  herrings  in  a  barrel," — the  writer,  a  bouncing 
damsel  of  fifteen,  having  sat  through  the  entire 
services  on  her  father's  knee.  Yet,  despite  the  dis 
comfort,  the  most  perfect  quiet  and  decorum  reigned, 
and  from  beginning  to  end  the  preacher  had  their 
undivided  attention. 

Mr.  Waddell's  sermon  was  appropriate  to  the 
existing  state  of  public  affairs;  his  text  being  the 
tenth  verse  of  the  seventh  Psalm  of  David.  The 

19* 


222  WOODBOURNE. 

one  great  leading  proposition  was  presented  in  a 
compact,  logical  arrangement  of  convincing  argu 
ments,  and  enforced  by  the  breathed  spell  of  genuine, 
unaffected  eloquence.  The  people  of  America  had 
invoked  the  help  of  the  God  of  battles  as  their 
only  strength  and  rock  of  defence.  On  one  condi 
tion  only  could  they  expect  to  obtain  the  deliver 
ance  for  which  they  prayed  from  Him  who  "judgeth 
the  righteous  and  is  angry  with  the  wicked  every 
day."  The  discourse,  so  unlike  in  matter,  style 
and  mode  of  delivery  to  any  which  had  ever  before 
emanated  from  that  pulpit,  produced  a  profound 
and  lasting  impression  on  the  vast  congregation, 
and  good  Mr.  John  Graeme,  overjoyed  to  see  how 
much  his  neighbors  were  affected  by  the  "halesame 
screed,"  could  not  have  been  more  happy  had  the 
sweet  bells  of  Saint  Mungo  been  chiming  in  his 
ears.  It  was  matter  of  becoming  pride  and  grat- 
ulation  to  his  dying  day,  that  memorable  visitation 
of  grace,  as  he  was  wont  to  call  it.  The  sermon 
was  such  as  might  have  been  expected  from  the 
wonderful  preacher  then  in  the  vigorous  prime  of 
manhood,  who,  long  years  afterwards,  grown  feeble 
with  age,  palsied,  sightless,  yet  all,  more  inwardly 
illumined  with  celestial  light,  extorted  a  glowing 
tribute  from  one  who  knew  himself  how  to  touch 
with  a  master's  hand  the  chords  of  human  thought, 
passion  and  feeling.  The  services  wrere  concluded 
by  a  fervent  appeal  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts  that  He 
would  sustain  and  cheer  the  hearts  and  nerve  the 
arms  of  the  people  in  the  struggle  which  was. before 
them,  and  speedily  guide  them  by  the  path  of 
victory  to  peace  and  freedom.  The  people  went 


WOODBOUEXE.  223 

away  pondering  deeply  on  what  they  had  heard, 
and  even  'Squire  Littleton  was  constrained  to  ac 
knowledge  that  the  "new-light"  doctrines  were  in 
the  main  sound  and  scriptural,  albeit  there  was  no 
good  word  spoken  in  behalf  of  his  persecuted  saints, 
the  blessed  Stuarts. 

It  was  observed  that  Mary  Littleton  did  not  come 
to  church.  Lucy  explained  her  absence  in  a  whis 
per  to  Dick  Alloway;  she  had  remained  at  Bonhill 
to  bear  Mrs.  Graeme  company.  As  the  congrega 
tion  were  dispersing  Mr.  Graeme  drew  his  young 
neighbor  one  side,  and  imparted  to  him  a  piece  of 
news  which  astonished  him  to  an  extraordinary  de 
gree.  He  gave  one  prolonged  whistle,  and  then 
suddenly  remembering  where  he  was  as  he  met 
Lucy's  surprised  look,  he  blushed  to  the  roots  of 
his  hair,  clumsily  fastened  the  carriage  door  on  the 
skirt  of  the  old  gentleman's  coat,  and  went  to  seek 
his  horse  in  utter  bewilderment  and  confusion. 

"  Wonders  will  never  cease,  Harry,"  he  exclaimed 
when  they  were  gotten  clear  of  the  crowd ;  "  Mike 
Burke  has  disappeared;  gone  in  the  night,  the  Lord 
knows  where." 

"The  mischief!"  replied  Harry,  with  an  incred 
ulous  stare.  "  How  did  you  learn  that  ? " 

"From  Mr.  Graeme,  who  had  it  directly  from 
the  sailor's  wife,"  said  Dick.  "He  stole  away  in 
his  boat  under  the  cover  of  darkness  without  a 
word  of  warning,  and  left  no  clew  to  his  inten 
tions  save  a  piece  of  plank  stuck  endwise  in  the 
sand,  on  which  he  had  sketched  with  charcoal  the 
picture  of  a  ship  under  full  sail  with  a  small  boat 
following  in  her  wake." 


224  -WOODBOURNE. 

"Which  means  plain  enough  that  Mike  has  de 
serted  to  the  enemy,"  said  Harry.  "  He'll  have  a 
lively  time  cruising  after  the  Katrine  in  this 
weather.  Well,  it  can't  be  helped,  and  really  I 
don't  see  why  yon  should  be  so  much  troubled 
about  it  in  one  way  or  the  other.  Your  jolly  old 
sea-dog  has  as  much  right  as  anybody  else  to  choose 
sides  in  the  fight ;  and  having  once  served  with 
credit  in  his  Majesty's  navy,  he  has  only  gone  back 
to  his  first  love.  That's  my  solution  of  the  matter, 
leaving  out  of  view  the  probability  of  domestic 
provocations  too  grievous  to  be  borne." 

"  He  was  well  posted  about  the  vessel's  move 
ments,"  Dick  went  on  to  say.  "She  did  not  put 
directly  to  sea  as  Ave  supposed,  but  will  run  into 
the  Eappahannock  to  complete  her  cargo,  touching 
at  Hobb's  Hole  and  Merry  Point;  Mr.  Osborn,  on 
winding  up  his  affairs  here,  having  exchanged  his 
negroes  with  Col.  James  Gordon,  of  Lancaster,  for 
tobacco.  The  rascal  could  easily  intercept  her  with 
a  fair  wind.  Conrad  and  Archie  out  of  their 
clutches,  I  wish  they  were  at  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean." 

Harry  made  no  reply  to  this  wrathful  explosion; 
it  was  plain  that  Dick  was  in  no  mood  for  trifling. 
He  was  both  deeply  mortified  and  sorely  distressed. 
Mike's  shameful  flight  was  the  unkindest  cut  of 
all;  it  was  the  culmination  of  black  ingratitude. 


OF    PART    I. 


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